


Vessels

by Glyphhunter



Series: Guide Me Home [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Injury, Clones, Explicit Language, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 14:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12655752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glyphhunter/pseuds/Glyphhunter
Summary: Shiro stands on an abandoned planet facing a horrifying truth. He is alone, without his Paladin armor, without his voice, and there’s a clone of himself wandering the cosmos. He can only hope that whoever finds him now is friendly.





	1. Unbecoming

**Author's Note:**

> This was outlined and started long before S3/S4 came out so imagine my surprise when this whole Kuron business came about.
> 
> Anyway, thank you to the [Shiro Big Bang](http://voltronbigbang.tumblr.com/) for hosting this event! Even though there were some tough times I've enjoyed myself immensely. 
> 
> Thank you, [Mikiri](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikiri/pseuds/Mikiri) betaing this for me on such short notice, you're the best!
> 
> And many thanks to the amazing [Jaybird](https://jaybirddraws.tumblr.com/) for working with me and making the art for this fic!

It’s dark. That’s the first thing Shiro notices when he wakes. It’s dark, it’s hot, and he can feel the sweat dripping down his face. He flexes his hands, his arms, his legs and fights for his next breath when he can’t move them. He blinks into the darkness.

_Where is he?_

There’s nothing. He blinks a few more times just to make sure but the room is pitch black. There’s no light to see by. The only thing he can tell is that he’s strapped flat to a hard surface. He pulls at the restraints again. There’s still no give.

It’s a familiar sensation, but it’s one he tries not to focus on. He swallows hard and forces himself to relax. Top to bottom, shoulders, arms, hands, chest, waist, legs, feet. It does nothing for how tight his lungs are but the rest of him feels loose. He closes his eyes since there’s no reason to have them open. It’s dark and he’s strapped to a table. How can he fix this?

He clenches his hands. Left, then right. Right. His right arm.

Shiro opens his eyes as he activates it and even though the dim violet light doesn’t illuminate the entire room, he knows exactly where he is. The light flickers out as his eyes go wide and his breath comes short. He isn’t supposed to be here.

It’s a box room with a single door. The metal of the walls reflects the light in purple shades. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter as he fights for control of his breath. He’s not supposed to be here. He got out. _He got out!_

He strains against the binds, arm activating again, but he knows it won’t be enough. His arm was never enough. He’s surprised when the band snaps and his arm shoots up to nearly hit him in the face. He gapes at it, breath quick, and it doesn’t take him long to go after the rest of his bonds.

Shiro rolls off the table and stumbles, legs weak and forcing them to carry him doesn’t bring much success. He tilts sideways and keeps going until he runs into something solid. It’s not the wall, though. It’s too smooth and the surface shines like glass beneath his flesh hand.

There’s a panel beneath his other hand, he learns. It lights up beneath his palm, followed by the buttons and switches, until the the whole thing is lit and Shiro is left gaping in horror. He backs away, eyes stuck, and trips over a cable stretched across the floor. He crashes hard and barely manages to keep from cracking his head against the table.

“No,” he says. Or, he tries to, and it’s another level of horror when nothing comes from his mouth. No, no, _no!_ He wants to scream, to shout. But there’s nothing no matter how hard he tries, and he still can’t pull his eyes away from the image in front of him.

He doesn’t want to believe it. He can’t believe it. There’s no possible way that there’s somehow a copy of himself in that pod. He can’t look away from the slack face that hovers behind the glass. Can’t ignore the white lock of hair and the scar that cuts across his nose. _How?_ How did this happen? How did he get here? He tries to remember the last thing that happened as his eyes dart back and forth.

_Zarkon!_ He remembers beating Zarkon! He remembers the triumph and the joy that had surged through his chest, shared with the Black Lion in their moment of victory. He remembers the relief in the knowledge that Zarkon is finally dead. But how can that be the case when he’s stuck on their ship again and there’s this _horror_ staring him in the face.

It takes Shiro another moment to realize that he is indeed staring, looking just as wide eyed and horrified as him. He chokes as soon as he does and it triggers the man in the pod to action. His arm ignites - something in Shiro rallies against that, _his arm!_ \- and the glass cracks and spider webs under his fist. Shiro finally moves, lunges up with his heart in his throat, and tries to get as far away as possible.

“No!” the man shouts, _rages_ , and Shiro can barely hear it through the glass as he punches it again. “Not again! I won’t let you take me again!”

_What?_

The glass shatters and Shiro is reeling. There’s a ringing in his ears. The copy is real, that much he can’t deny. Not when Shiro’s being grabbed and lifted by the neck. He wants to yell as he scrambles against the hold, but nothing comes out and he kicks uselessly at the air. It’s a position he never thought he’d be in again, helpless off his feet and held by a clone of himself. Except Haggar’s laugh is missing and the copy glares at him with his own eyes and snarls with unbridled rage.

“How does it feel to be on the other end?” he growls.

_What?_

Shiro’s eyes widen as the grip closes on this throat. His breath cuts off and his fingers scramble at the metal fingers of the clone. This isn’t supposed to happen! He’s supposed to be safe with his team!

He kicks as his vision starts to dim and he doesn’t miss the look of victory that burns in the clone’s eyes. He’s going to die by his own hand, what kind of irony is this?

His fingers are losing their grip. He can barely lift his legs high enough to kick. Actually, he can’t. He can’t move, he can’t see, and all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears.

He didn’t even get to say goodbye.

The next thing he knows, he’s sucking in burning lungfuls of air and the floor under him is shaking. There’s shouting, screaming, metal shrieks in the distance. The room is bright and Shiro can see the clone picking himself up off the floor.

He needs to move.

He rolls, heedless of the glass scattered across the surface, and scrambles for the door. It opens before he reaches it and his blood chills in his veins. The blast of druidic magic blinds him, and it’s the last thing he remembers.

\--

He wakes up gasping, a cold voice on the edge of his psyche. One of the druids, he knows, but his eyes dart back and forth and he finds nothing familiar, good or bad. It’s cold, practically freezing, and he’s surrounded by rocks, cliffs and open skies.

There’s no Galra in sight.

Shiro crawls to the wall and slowly stands on shaking legs, both hands pressed against the stone. He has no idea where he is. “Hello,” he tries to call but again, there’s no sound. He has no voice. He presses a trembling hand to his throat, but he can’t tell if there’s a scar. Nothing raised at any rate.

There’s a dim light on the horizon. Either sunrise or sunset. He’ll learn which in a bit. A brief look at his surroundings doesn’t bring up anything new. Rock, rock, and more rock. He follows the wall for a bit but it’s solid. No holes, no caves.

Is there even anything here?

He picks up a loose stone and debates striking it against the wall. Does he even want to bring attention to himself? His vision wavers and he leans against the wall to stay upright. No. He really doesn’t. He keeps a hold of it though incase something nasty thinks he’s a worthy meal. Or an easy one at least.

He stumbles more than walks along the wall. Cliff face, he amends. He’s at the base of a cliff. But it’s weird how there’s no holes dug, no cracks in the wall. No vegetation, either. Just barren rock for miles.

He has to stop and close his eyes for a bit, try to stall the slow rise of nausea in his stomach. He slides to the ground when it doesn’t fade right away. Does he even have anything to throw up? He takes a deep breath and slides down even further until he’s pretty much prone. He really doesn’t want to find out.

The sun’s in a different spot when Shiro opens his eyes again, just… not where he expects. It’s directly in front of him with his back to the wall, still right below the horizon line. He closes his eyes again and knocks his head once against the stone.

Shit.

He’s either too far north, or too far south. That really doesn’t say much for his options. He groans as he stands - actually, no he doesn’t. It’s a heavy breath of air but it’s a far cry from the emotion that a groan encompasses. He touches his throat, searches, but he still doesn’t find anything.

Later.

Shiro swallows the nervous swell in his chest and continues along the wall. One foot in front of the other. Keep going until there’s something different. Keep going, keep going, _keep going_ . The sun moves further along the horizon and he _has_ to keep going. He almost doesn’t notice when the ground disappears.

His toes brush the edge, sending small stones into the yawning darkness. It’s a hole. But it’s _massive._ Shiro presses closer to the cliff face. He can see the other side, see how the ground rises to become the top of the cliff he’s pressed against. And he can see how the cliff itself extends out over the hole to a point near the center.

And there’s something else but Shiro can barely see it over the top of the cliff. Something’s behind it, or on it, but he needs to be on the other side to see what it is. He follows the edge of the hole with his eyes and takes a deep breath. Right. Just keep moving.

He steps away from the wall and nearly falls on his face. He stares wide eyed at the ground, on his hands and knees. His breath mists in the air. Okay. He swallows and slowly pushes himself back to his feet. Shelter, then food. If there is any.

It’s slow progress. The sun keeps moving along the horizon, and Shiro concentrates on keeping his feet beneath him. He looks back at the cliff every now and then, keeps an eye on the shadow that looms behind it and slowly it comes into view. More than once, he has to stop and sit.

By the time he can see the structure, the sun is almost back to the point where it started and Shiro is breathless. He drops to the ground as soon as he realizes what it is.

It’s a Galra command center, but it’s dark and there’s no sign of movement. If there’s something there that can see him, there’s no one to take action. It’s abandoned. This whole place is abandoned. Shiro looks at the hole, gets lower, stomach to the ground, and squints into the darkness.

He can’t see very far but there is a ridge and a bridge from the tower down to it. He thinks he can see another, going deeper, and Shiro closes his eyes to the knowledge.

This is a Balmera and it’s very, _very,_ dead.

He imagines the Balmerans, resigned to their fate much like the ones they saved were. Hundreds of thousands of Balmerans clustered together in the Balmera’s final moments.

He takes a deep breath as he heaves himself upright and swallows back the tears that want to form. This is no time to have a soft heart, he tells himself. He needs to get to that tower.

Shiro puts his focus back into his feet. One step after another. He stays a careful distance from the edge and makes his way around the hole. It’s right there, he tells himself. Get to the tower. Then rest. Just get to the tower.

His legs are shaking and his breath comes in short bursts. He can see his breath in the air.

Get to the tower.

The incline is getting steeper. More than once, Shiro’s foot slips and he falls to his knees. The tower looms above him, dark and ominous. He can’t see the sun behind the cliff. When the ground flattens, it feels more sudden than it should be. Shiro stumbles and falls, no longer needing to climb, and he rolls onto his back to regain his breath.

He made it.

The top of the tower is a shadow against the stars. It looks impossibly tall from this angle, a dark symbol of oppression. A scar on an innocent creature. Shiro purses his lips and gets back to his feet.

Finding the door is easy enough. There’s gates blocking the way, but his hand cuts through the metal and there’s points where rust has completely eaten through. Breaking in is laughably easy. The door doesn’t open, no power and his hand isn’t enough to jolt it through the panel. But there’s windows, already broken by fallen pillars and cranes and-

Shiro eyes one of the windows, and tilts his head as he examines it. The bottom of the pane has fallen in but the top half is still there somehow. The glass spider webs from one spot. This one was shot. From the outside. There’s more, a spray around the bottom half of the window, denting the metal.

This place was attacked.

But an in is an in, and Shiro climbs through the broken window. He’s not as careful as he should be either, his fingers catch on the edge and small shards dig into his skin. He can’t stop the sharp hiss between his teeth as he gasps.

Shit. Just what he needs, an open wound on top of everything else. He picks them out as best as he can but it’s even darker inside than it is outside. And he’s not willing to put more glass in his hand to get rid of the shards already there. He’ll deal with it for now. Blood drips between his fingers, likely leaving a trail, but he doubts there’s anything left to find him.

He goes through the first open door he sees. The main one it looks like, one side torn out and laying bent on the ground. It’s getting darker the further he goes and he keeps his hand lit so he doesn’t step on anything. There’s debris in the corridor, but it’s impossible to tell from what. Supports, lights, weapons, all were viable. Shiro steps around it and tries every door he comes across.

Some are open, but the smell within them has him turning away. Rot and mold, not anything he wants to be near. He needs to find a generator, something he can turn on. Something to create heat. He goes through the door at the end of the hall and stops.

The tower is hollow, and Shiro is standing on a bridge that crosses the gap supported by cables. One is already disconnected, half of the cable resting against the wall above his head. He takes a step out, then another, and another. About halfway out, the bridge shifts beneath his feet. It’s swaying, a subtle up and down that Shiro can’t see but can feel in his stomach.

He swallows and hurries the rest of the way across. The cables are creaking by the time he’s through the other door, and his heart races in his throat. He’s not looking forward to going back across.

The next door that opens leads to stairs. He can’t go up, not with the rubble of the collapsed flight above in the way, but he can go down. So he goes down.

It’s… a lot further down than he first thought. There’s no other doors along the way, just one at the very bottom that Shiro goes through without a second thought. He holds his hand up in the darkness and breaths a sigh of relief.

It’s a mess. It looks like part of the ceiling above collapsed leaving, crossbeams and wires hanging near the opposite side. But along the wall to his right, behind a leaning pillar, is a series of pipes. At the end of them, is a console. A generator. Heat.

Shiro ducks around the pillar and heads straight for it.

He presses his hand against the main panel, ready for it to turn on under his palm. But it doesn’t react. Shiro freezes.

He’s going to die here.

In the underbelly of a Galra command tower, on a long dead and abandoned Balmera, without food or water, he’s going to die.  Which is fine, he guesses. He’s already on borrowed time, still alive long after he should have died. At least he saved some people along the way.

Still sucks that he couldn’t say goodbye to everybody. He wants to apologize.

‘Sorry for leaving so suddenly.’

‘Sorry for not trying harder.’

‘Sorry for dying.’

He takes a deep breath and ignores how shaky it is. He’s about to pull his hand away when the generator clicks and the panel flickers on. Shiro stares. He stares at the red writing as it starts its boot sequence. The clicks turn to a hum and the generator begins to vibrate beneath his hand.

It works.

A cursor blinks then the writing vanishes. A menu opens on the screen. Shiro flips a switch and the pipes along the wall creak. Power. He flips another and the lights closest to him flicker on.

Shiro wants to laugh. Does laugh, even though it’s silent. He falls to the ground, then to his back and laughs to the broken ceiling. At the very least, he’s not going to freeze to death here.

Already he can feel the room heating up. It’s a welcome change to the cold that was beginning to seep into his bones. He grins at the ceiling for another moment then sits up. Now he can get rid of the glass. Then sleep.

Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.

\--

It’s the groaning that wakes him. Metal put under too much strain. Shiro looks up at the ceiling just in time to watch another section give out. The lights flicker and Shiro watches as a beam pierces through the debris and starts to fall in his direction. No, right towards him, he realizes as he sucks in a panicked breath. He scrambles to get out of the way, but his glass cut palm doesn’t take his weight and his feet slip against the dust ridden floor.

He presses backwards instead, hard against the pipes and curls up as much as he can. Arms over his head, knees pulled tight to his chest. The pipes vibrate at his back and the ground shudders beneath him. More than one thing hits the floor and he waits for the dust to settle before even daring to peek out. He finds the beam less than a foot from his face and the air in his lungs comes out all at once.

Holy fuck.

Shiro looks at where the beam meets the wall and swallows hard. Slowly, he slides himself down and out from under it. There’s no way he’s touching that. Not when it looks two seconds from busting through the pipes. The screen on the generator is flashing a warning and Shiro takes the message for what it is.

Get the fuck out.

Except the only way out is through the door.

On the other side of the beam.

Shiro scans the rest of the room and briefly considers leaving through the ceiling. There’s enough shit hanging through he could probably pull himself out. Doesn’t mean there’s anything else up there that could help him, though. Shiro eyes the pipes and the beam and the debris resting on top of it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the warning change. He doubts it’s good.

He gets low and crawls on his stomach and manages to mostly get through. But his foot gets caught on a wire he didn’t see. It startles him enough to knock the beam. One of the pipes start to hiss.

Fucking _move!_

He bolts up for the door, careless of the beam now that he’s fucked it up already. It hits his back before crashing to the floor and he runs through the sudden ache because he’s not going to die in a fiery explosion. Fuck that. There are better ways to go out.

He runs up the stairs as fast as he can, breath harsh in his ears. He doesn’t even know how far down he went. He didn’t count. His legs and his lungs burn, but he can’t stop. He doesn’t actually know what the broken pipe is going to do, but he’s not sticking around to figure it out.

He keeps going, up, and up, and up, until he’s on the door and crashing through it. He trips and rolls, coming to a stop against the opposite wall. There’s power up here too, though the lights are dim and flickering. For half a second, he wonders how much of the tower the generator is powering. Then a rush of heat comes out the door after him and Shiro is up and running.

He goes through the door to the bridge and doesn’t allow himself to stop. The bridge is visibly moving, swaying back and forth and the cables groaning with the effort. His hurried footsteps don’t make it better. A cable snaps right after he passes it, a sharp echoing twang in his ears and one half whizzes by his head before it swings below the bridge.

Two more snap, one right after the other and while one passes by harmlessly, Shiro has to leap over the other as it strikes the metal. The bridge shudders under his feet as he lands, starts to buckle, and Shiro’s heart leaps to his throat.

He dives through the door and looks back to watch the rest of the cables snap. The far side of the bridge goes first, dropping down to the basement and bringing the rest of it with it. It sends up a flurry of sparks and Shiro knows he would’ve been dead had he stayed down there.

But he’s not in the clear yet. Far from it.

The fire’s in the basement and it’s only going to spread upwards.

He gets back to his feet and makes for the exit.

It’s easier to move when there’s more light than the dim glow of his hand. He goes quickly down the corridor and into the entryway but he doesn’t leave through the window this time. Not when there’s suddenly three new people in the room and for a heartstopping second, Shiro thinks they’re Galra.

Second glance tells him no but they seem to think he is with the way they aim at him. He barely has time to dive behind a partially collapsed desk before they’re shooting.

“Stop!” he tries to shout and remembers, again, that he has no voice. He sees one come around the side, still keeping their distance and Shiro bolts. He leaps over the desk, picks up one of the broken legs and hurtles it towards the one in front of him. They curse and long arms deflect the projectile with little bother.

It gives Shiro time to get close though. Close enough to get into their guard and send the shots they’re trying to shoot wide. He hooks his arm around theirs and slips to their back, using them as a temporary shield.

He picks up something else, he doesn’t know what, something curved and it arcs when he throws it. It hits the one with four arms by the door, just as Shiro turns and tosses his shield into the one by the desk. He runs for the side door, opposite to the window he came in, and stumbles into the cold.

A shot nails the frame right behind his head and Shiro drops. Sniper. Another shot hits the dirt by his feet, sending a spray and Shiro looks towards the cliff as he rolls behind a metal crate. Fuck. There’s no way he’s taking them out. There’s a grunt from inside, too close to the door for his comfort and Shiro bolts to new cover.

Whatever they want, he knows they want him alive.

A shot pings off the corner of another crate just as Shiro ducks behind it. It rings in his ear and he makes sure they can’t see him from the cliff or the door. They’ll have to find a new vantage point. He catches his breath as he surveys his options.

At least four people, three inside and one on the cliff. There’s the possibility there might be more. He’s alone with no armor, and no voice. All he has his arm and his wits. Not the best combination but he’s worked with it before and he can do it again.

There’s a crunch of gravel to his left, away from the door and the cliff, and Shiro grits his teeth. That was too fast for someone to loop around. There’s a fifth person. Shiro gathers himself, prepares to leap up and take the guy by surprise.

The tower groans.

There’s a commotion in the building, shouting it sounds like and Shiro leaps out, arm lit. There’s a gun in his face and Shiro freezes.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot you dead.”

Shiro sucks in a breath and all thought comes to a stop. He knows that voice. He stares down the barrel, barely seeing it. That voice shouldn’t be here.

He looks up the line of the gun, over the armor and the cloak. He stares at where their eyes should be behind the mask. It shouldn’t be here, but what if...

Slowly, he raises his human hand. The person’s hold on the gun seems to falter only for a second. Shiro reaches for the crate and with his fingers, he taps SOS.

A chair crashes through the window just at the gun drops.

“Captain, we’ve gotta split!” one of the guys shouts. The big one with long arms is already leaping through. “Whatever this guy did, this place is about to collapse!” As if to emphasize, the tower gives another groan. The guy - _he knows him, he does_ \- grabs Shiro by the shoulder, and Shiro doesn’t fight the pull.

“Stad, Rumi, fall back,” he says and Shiro assumes it's through a radio. None of the people running towards them react. “We’re leaving. Mission success.” He starts heading back around the tower and Shiro has to keep pace with him since he doesn’t seem keen on letting go.

“Wait, this is it?” The voice is distinctly female, the one with four arms bringing up the rear. “This is the disturbance?” That mask turns towards Shiro for a second.

“Yes,” he says. The groaning has turned into creaking. Shiro looks back and the sporadic lighting flickers as the tower tilts. They’re still far too close for comfort. “Get to the ship. We don’t want to be here when the place goes down.”

There’s a chorus of affirmations and the group surges ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, Shiro spots two people gliding over the hole. Six. He was surrounded by six people.

There’s a tug on his shoulder and Shiro gasps. The air is cold. Everything is cold. Everything seems brighter and darker all at once and the world tilts.

“Shit. Inah!”

That’s Matt’s voice. Where did he come from? Long arms wrap around him and Shiro doesn’t have the strength to fight. Everything hurts.

He sees orange out of the corner of his eye. Fire. It expands, higher and higher until it falls. He doesn’t hear the  crash. That’s weird. Is he actually dying this time? He can feel the heat, though, warm against his face. He closes his eyes. At least he got one thing he wanted.


	2. Frequency

“How is this guy still alive?”

That’s a good question, how is he still alive?

“He was always a big fan of breaking the rules. He just graduated from school grade to breaking the laws of nature.” There’s a rustle of cloth and the sound of metal against metal. Shiro’s eyes shoot open and close just as quickly against the lights overhead. He groans, and the breath comes out faster when remembers he has no voice.

“Gorick, turn down the lights,” someone says. Something drops into a pan and another voice drifts away with a quiet murmur. The lights go down and Shiro tentatively opens his eyes. 

Matt.

Matt is next to him with a scar on his cheek, dressed in strange armor, and watching Shiro with nervous caution. His lips form Matt’s name, he doesn’t care if he can’t speak right now, and he’s sitting up as he reaches for the first thing he can grab.

“No, no, no!” The other guy - Gorick? - rushes over and presses Shiro back down to the bed. “You just woke up from a coma, don’t try and get up right away.” Shiro can’t really do much to refute that. Not when his vision is spotting, and it feels like his head is about to burst. 

The coma thing is new though. 

“You’ve still got toxins in you from when you slept in that cellar. Which, kudos to you, you managed to keep yourself warm, but don’t you know that CO is bad for you? Like, really bad? The levels you had when we got you were insane. I’m surprised you weren’t dead.”

Shiro blinks his eyes open and doesn’t try to sit up this time. He’s becoming more and more aware of himself. Like the tube that runs under his nose and the IVs stuck in his arm. He tries to ignore the uneasy twist in his stomach. 

Gorick is to his right, fussing with a screen beside the bed. He’s covered with enough scarves and cloth to make him look like a desert thief and the only features Shiro can make out are that he’s short and has wide yellow eyes. 

Those wide yellow eyes turn on him with such intensity that Shiro tries to lean away. “You’re awake now though, and that can only be a good thing. We can start giving you nourishment orally but it’s going to be a while yet before we can move on to solids. I hope you like soup ‘cause that’s the only thing you’re going to be eating for weeks.”

It can’t be any worse than goo.

Gorick doesn’t wait for him to respond, not that Shiro can, and he goes back to his screen. “Captain, I’m taking this up to the Commander,” he says as he starts disconnecting various cables. “Tell him what’s what, get him caught up to speed. Tell him he’s a-” and Shiro has no idea what that word - if it even is a word - means, but Matt snorts and agrees. Gorick goes out the door with a wave over his shoulder and Shiro turns to Matt.

Matt, who was taken away by the Galra. 

Matt, who Pidge is scouring the systems for. 

Matt, who is  _ safe. _

He’s  _ safe _ and Shiro can’t be anymore grateful to the people who found and saved him. 

“You’re here,” he tries to say. He feels like he should be crying, but somehow he’s not.

“Welcome to the Resistance, Starshine,” Matt introduces with a wide sweep of his arms and Shiro’s heart clenches. How long has it been since he heard that name? “They rescued me from that Balmera almost a year ago. How much of a coincidence is it to find you there now?” Shiro’s eyes widen and Matt smiles. He leans forward and rests his elbows on the mattress. 

“Thank you,” he says, “for getting me out of that arena.”

‘I had to,’ Shiro wants to say. There was no other option he could’ve taken. But Shiro takes in a deep breath and nods. At least Matt got away.

Matt’s eyes drop to the rest of him. To the scar that cuts across his face, to the arm that replaces his human one. He frowns and draws himself back. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.” His voice is quiet, barely a whisper, and Shiro protests. He shakes his head, tries to lift himself up to take Matt in his arms, but he’s pressed back again. Matt looks at him with a wry smirk.

“No, you’re resting now,” he says and Shiro stares. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you before; I hate that the Galra did this to you. But you’re with the Resistance now. You’re with my people, and we’re going to do our damnedest to make sure you get better.” Matt pauses as a thought occurs to him and he tilts his head.

“Do you even know what you looked like when we picked you up?” he asks. Shiro shakes his head. He remembers waking up in the Galra ship. He remembers waking up on the Balmera. By his count it’s only been a couple days but from the look on Matt’s face, he guesses it was longer. 

“You looked dead and I wish that’s an exaggeration,” Matt says. “You actually have colour now. You don’t look like you’ll be knocked over by a stiff breeze, and you’re actually following what I’m saying. That’s an improvement.”

That… sounds like Shiro’s been here for a while. He frowns, tries to puzzle out how long he’s been out for, but there’s no basis for him. Nothing for him to go off of. Gorick said he had CO in his bloodstream. Still has CO in his blood, that means carbon monoxide poisoning. Damned if he can remember all the symptoms of it, though. 

Matt must see the confusion on his face because he sighs and pulls a tablet out of… somewhere. “We picked you up a week ago. Or, well.” His nose wrinkles as he wiggles his fingers. “Seven quintents ago. Days out here are wobbly.”

That, Shiro can agree with. 

“Anyway, we picked you up severely dehydrated, malnourished, and with high levels of CO in your system.” He turns the tablet towards Shiro and shows him the list of readings. Shiro squints at it, but his focus keeps going in and out. He only manages to catch the 75% at the bottom of the list before Matt pulls it away.

That looked… bad. 

“And the only reason it got that high was because you slept in front of a fucking generator for a day.” Matt levels him with a deadpan stare. “What the fuck, Shiro.”

He was asleep for a day?

Shiro frowns and shrugs. Matt sighs and slumps back in his chair. “But you’re fine now,” he says as he sets the tablet on the edge of the bed. “You’re going to be fine. Your levels are down to about 30 percent and you’re actually conscious now.” Matt rubs his face between his hands. When he pulls them away, he looks tired. Like that time he spent a week studying for finals and only made it to the exam because of coffee and redbull. 

His head leans to the side, too exhausted to keep it straight, it seems. Shiro tries to put the question on his face as much as possible. 

What’s wrong?

“I missed you,” he says. Shiro blinks. “I tried looking for you. Tried to see if I could break you out like the Resistance did for me. But you were gone from the system by time I was able to check.” Matt frowns as his eyes start to take on a shine, and Shiro realizes with growing alarm that he’s about to cry. When was the last time Matt cried?

But Matt takes a deep breath and shakes his head. The tears don’t fall but the shine stays. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner. I’m sorry you suffered with the Galra for as long as you did.” Shiro starts to shake his head.

“But you’re safe.” He leans forward and pulls his chair closer to the bed. There’s a determined set to his jaw that Shiro never thought he’d see again. Matt reaches up and for a moment, Shiro thinks he’s going to touch him. Take his hand, maybe. Grip his shoulder. Something. But Matt keeps going and presses something above Shiro’s head. 

There’s a click and a hiss and his next breath of air feels clearer. Oxygen, he assumes. It doesn’t stop the disappointment though. Matt settles back in his seat and Shiro expects him to lean back again. Cross his legs, fold his hands together. He does neither of those things.

“You’re safe now,” he says, quiet and subdued, and he picks up Shiro’s hand to hold it tight between his own. Shiro returns the grip as best as he can and Matt smiles. He presses their joined hands to his forehead like a prayer even though they both know there’s no god to pray to.

“You’re never going back,” Matt promises. It’s a nice thought, but his track record seems to be against it. 

Shiro tries to believe him anyway.

\--

It takes three quintents for Gorick - and probably someone higher than him - to decide he’s good enough to be disconnected. It’s three days that Shiro was mostly asleep for, so he’s not as antsy to get up and moving as he could be. He’s still a bit restless as Gorick works around him though, something about the process and his mechanical efficiency that puts him on edge. 

“Now, it’s up to you, but I can either send you out with a chair or a pair of crutches,” Gorick is saying as he pulls the IVs from Shiro’s arm. “At least until you’re steady on your feet again. It shouldn’t take you long, if the stories I’ve heard about you are true. Captain says you make a habit of breaking the rules.” 

He drops the ends in a closed bin and lets the tubes hang empty. Gauze gets taped over the holes. “Wouldn’t recommend going with nothing, though. Captain would shoot me if something happened to you under my watch. Don’t want you falling down the stairs.”

Shiro doesn’t want that either. He sits up as Gorick moves away. His vision doesn’t fade anymore and the near constant headache has faded to a barely there throb behind his eyes. Every muscle aches though. 

“He should be down in a bit anyway,” Gorick continues. He’s tapping on his tablet and swiping through screens faster than Shiro can keep up. “Just getting everything settled with the Commander. There’s an outfit for you on the chair, graciously supplied by yours truly. Know that even if you feel like the underside of a soiled boot, you’ll be wearing the latest fashion. No more dirty Galra rags for you.”

It’s like he never stops talking. Shiro looks at the chair and sees the neat pile on the seat. It’s a similar colour scheme to what he’s seen the people here wearing so far; blues and greys and soft browns. He picks up the first thing and it turns out to be a blue-grey jumpsuit. He looks at Gorick out of the corner of his eye, skeptical. This is the latest inter-galactic fashion?

“Just one more thing before I leave you to get changed,” Gorick says as he comes back around the bed. He holds out the tablet for Shiro to take. “This is for your personal use. Everything is set up and ready to go, it just needs your hand print to lock it to your signature.”  Shiro’s brows raise and he blinks in surprise. He gets a tablet?

He takes it slowly, confused and unsure. Gorick waves for him to continue when he hesitates. He presses his left hand to the screen and a few seconds later it pings. A circular loading icon is revealed when he pulls away, little segments spinning and flipping around each other, and it’s not long before they spin outwards and the interface is revealed. He stares at his name in the top left corner.

He gets his own tablet.

“Thank you,” he goes to say, but he abruptly remembers before he finishes even forming the ‘T’ that he has no voice. He stares at Gorick, tense and at a loss of what to do, and Gorick stares back. Shiro swallows as Gorick tilts his head. He nods his thanks instead and Gorick lets out a quick laugh. 

“Okay, so you don’t like to talk, that’s fine.” He waves as if to brush the matter off and heads for the door. “Just tell me if you want the chair or the crutches. One or two.”

Logic tells Shiro to get the chair. There’s less chance of him falling or tripping, and he won’t need to stop for breaks. But it also means he’ll have to have someone else push him around for however long he’s out. Unless he gets one of the chairs where he can scoot around at the press of a button. What were the chances of that anyway? 

He rolls the thought around in his head before letting it go. He needs the exercise.

He holds up two fingers and Gorick leaves with a nod.

It occurs to him after he puts on the fresh underwear that he hasn’t heard a thing about Voltron. Or Zarkon for that matter. He stares through the empty doorway, almost hoping that someone would come back through, and frowns.

\--

“Just for the record, I don’t agree with this,” Matt says as he comes in the room. Gorick is behind him with the crutches. Shiro raises his brow as he sits up and lets his tablet rest in his lap. “Why didn’t you take the chair?”

‘Because I don’t need it,’ Shiro wants to say, but he can’t so he shrugs. He locks the tablet and slides it into one of the many large pockets on his pants. Matt’s eyes narrow and he studies Shiro with a thin frown. Shiro meets his eyes as he stands and takes the crutches from Gorick. He’s not sturdy on his own by any means, but with the crutches he can manage well enough. 

He’s not going to get stronger by sitting.

Matt frown deepens for a split second before he sighs and looks at Gorick. “Find Inah and meet us in Mess A later. We’ll be down when we’re finished at the bridge.”

Gorick give him a sloppy salute, a loose right fist over his left shoulder as he barely straightens. It slides into an easy wave as he slips back out the door with a quick, “See ya!” Shiro expects Matt to start for the door, too, but he’s surprised when Matt rounds back on him, glaring full force.

“Why aren’t you speaking?”

Shiro cringes.

Yeah, he should’ve known.

He shakes his head and he see can the frustration grow on Matt’s face. 

“Nothing showed up on the diagnostic, Shiro,” he says. “I thought it might be because you were sick, but you haven’t said anything since you woke up.” Again Shiro shakes his head and he tries to push towards the door. Matt’s hand against his chest stops him.

“You need to tell me what’s going on before we go anywhere.” The look in Matt’s eyes brook no argument. Shiro wants to yell.

“I can’t.” There’s no sound. Not really. There’s a click at the top of the ‘C’ and a short hiss at the end of the ‘T’. The rest flows out in a breath of hot air as Matt’s glare drops. Shiro turns his towards the wall.

“You can’t,” Matt says. Shiro doesn’t bother with shaking his head this time. “How long? Is it recent?” There’s a hardness to his voice. A desire for violence that Shiro looks up at. He’s glaring again, but it’s a vengeful burn and his fingers flex like he’s itching for a weapon. Shiro frowns as he gives a single shoulder shrug and nods. 

He doesn't know how long but yes, it’s recent. Recent enough for him to still think he can.

Matt takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, the anger is hidden but there’s still a tightness to the corner of his eyes. “Later,” he says. “You’re writing everything out later.” Which is fine. It’s not like Shiro can do much else.

Matt finally heads out of the room, and Shiro follows on his heels. They keep a slow steady pace, and while Shiro is thankful for it, he wishes they didn’t need to be so careful. But like Gorick said, he doesn't want to fall down any stairs. 

He just got out of that room, he doesn’t want to go back in it. 

At the end of the hall, Matt gestures to one of the benches against the wall. There’s a series of doors on the opposite wall. “Sit,” he says as he presses a button. Elevators, Shiro realizes as he maneuvers himself into a seat. One of the crutches falls and he sighs at it as Matt bends to pick it up. 

His mouth opens, ‘Thank you,’ on his lips and he closes is it a second later. Matt gives him a wan smile. Shiro blinks and he gives the whole area another look over. The walls are brushed steel and there’s very little colour deviation from the blue, grey, brown aside from the occasional green, but everything looks...

“It’s a lot like home, I know.” Shiro looks up and Matt has crossed his arms as he stares down the hall too. Someone further down comes out of one room to go into the one directly across. “It’s helped, honestly. Even if it’s not the same it’s at least… somewhat familiar.”

They watch that person go back and forth until the elevator pings. Then Shiro stands and makes his way into the little box car with Matt at his back. 

\--

“So this is the man that has my ship in a frenzy.” Shiro assumes it’s the Commander standing on the edge of the center console. She’s short, barely three feet, but she cuts a pretty intimidating figure despite that. Horns poke out of the scarf around her head to wrap around the sides and of her four eyes, the far left eye is scarred shut. One pair of arms is crossed in front of her while the other sets braced on her hips. She doesn’t look impressed. At all.

She gives him a quick up-and-down, and Shiro tightens his grip on his crutches. Probably a good thing he didn’t take the chair. “You don’t look like you could take down a sick yupper pup. I expected more out of the infamous Champion of the Arena,” she says and Shiro has to fight the flinch. Matt barely reacts and Shiro should’ve known that he knew about that. Something like that is hard to miss when looking for information on someone.

Shiro’s lips thin and he forces himself straight. The Commander’s brows, thin and practically non-existent, raise when he passes the crutches to Matt.

“For show, then,” she states, and her head tilts as she considers him with narrowed eyes. Shiro doesn’t move. “The good captain here tells me you can be trusted. That it would do us good to add you to our force. I for one, don’t see why I should bother.

“You’ve been on my ship for two movements and you stand before me weak, scarcely able to stand on your own.” She gestures to him with a loose hand before it goes back to her hip. “I need soldiers for war, not collateral to be tossed in the way of fire.”

Matt sucks in a breath and jerks forward, but stops at the Commander’s raised hand. “We agreed, did we not?” she asks and Matt steps back. He releases his breath slowly and his hands clench at his sides. Shiro frowns. When her hand drops, Shiro moves. 

He ducks the swipe aimed at his head and slips back and around the attacker behind him. He hooks an ankle along the way and takes the arm that tries to grab him. A quick twist and they’re on the floor, arm pinned to their back. It’s the guy with the long arms, Shiro realizes and slowly, he lets go. Above them, Matt sighs and there’s an edge of relief to it. 

Shiro stands and he barely manages to stay upright as his vision greys at the edges. He swallows and feels hot and cold at the same time. His fingers feel numb.

“I suppose you’ll do,” the Commander says and Shiro looks up. She’s smirking, or maybe even smiling but the scar across her eye distorts it. She turns towards the bullpen as her arms fall to her sides. “Get this man a chair before he passes out.”

There’s a small commotion below and someone curses before a chair is brought up the steps to the side. The long armed guy stands with a groan and with a sharp twist, his back cracks. Shiro blinks and sways. 

“Sit down, idiot.” Matt drags the chair closer and practically shoves Shiro into it. It makes his vision swim and he leans forward to hold his head between his hands. 

“Pretty good for an infirm,” the Commander says. Her voice sounds muffled. “Might’ve been too soon for him, though.”

“This guy disabled three of us on the brink of death, I think he’s fine.” That’s a new voice. Shiro looks up and the Commander is looking down into the bullpen. 

“I suppose you wouldn’t mind watching him for another movement, then,” she says. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

“... It’s not on my list of favourite activities, but I’ll do it.”

Someone steps up next to him and before he can look, a cup is held out in front of his face. “Drink this.” Gorick is on the other end, watching him with his wide yellow eyes. Where...

“It’s just water,” Matt says from his other side. “Once you’re good to go again, I’ll show you the Mess.” Shiro takes the water and starts to drink it before he turns to Matt. He tries to convey his displeasure over the rim of the cup as well as he can. From the lopsided smile and half shrug, he’s sure some of the message gets across. 

“Anyway.” Matt clears his throat and gestures to the guy that attacked him. “This is Inah.”  Inah lifts an arm in a single wave. His face is dog-like, fur-covered and his markings are reminiscent of a rottweiler. He doesn’t look at all phased by what just happened. Shiro nods back.

“These two are part of my team,” Matt says. “There are others that rotate in and out but these two are permanently with me.” Inah and Gorick, Shiro tells himself as he looks them both over. Should be easy enough to remember. 

“That’s all well and good, but you guys are leaving soon for another movement.” An unilu woman comes up from the right side of the bullpen. Her uniform is tailored close aside from the short cloak over her shoulders and a beaded lock of pale blue hair swings against her right cheek. “If you’re going to teach him names, tell him the ones that matter.”

“Hessa,” Matt sighs and the woman smirks. 

“There’s step one.” Her tone is playful but Matt only sighs and settles himself against the wall. Hessa turns to Shiro and holds up her tablet. “They gave you yours already, right?” she asks and Shiro nods as he pats the pocket it’s in. 

“Good.” She tucks hers under an arm. “Now, I’m going to go eat. These guys are scheduled to head out in 2 vargas so you better get your goodbyes in before they leave.” She passes through them with a jaunty wave over her shoulder and Matt sighs again as Shiro shoots him a look. 

“I’ll give you the run down as we eat,” he says as he pushes himself off the wall. “Commander Vix.” Matt salutes to the woman on the console. The Commander gives one in return, a casual lift of her arm over her opposite shoulder, before Matt turns away. 

“Follow Hessa,” he says as he passes the crutches over. “We’ll do this all in one place.”

\--

The ship they’re on is called the Crusader, Shiro learns and that’s pretty much the only thing that sticks before Matt leaves. Then Hessa leaves him in his room later with a tablet full of new faces and her ID in his contacts. Which he appreciates, really, he just didn’t expect to be left on his own right after waking up. 

And isn’t that the kicker. 

He’s alone. On a strange ship full of strange people, and the only familiar face gone on assignment. Shiro grips his tablet tight in his human hand while the crutch creaks in the other. He shouldn’t be here. 

Shiro stands in the middle of his newly assigned room and stares at the uniformity. He takes in the tucked corners of the bed, the bare surface of the desk, and the spotless floor. It… reminds him of the Garrison barracks honestly. New year, new place, new room.  

This isn’t his place. 

This ship of rebels hiding on the outskirts of the Galra. This simplistic room, one of many. These  _ people. _

Shiro sets the tablet on the desk before he can crack the screen. He stares at his name displayed in the corner. He’s been awake for three days and they’ve already integrated him. He knows part of it’s due to Matt’s influence but… all of it seems too… 

Neat. Organized.  _ Fast _ .

It’s too fast. 

Shiro sits in the chair and only then does he notice his shaking legs. It’s his legs, then it’s his hands, and soon all of him is shaking as he bends over the surface. This isn’t his place. His breath comes out in harsh gasps and he wraps his arms tight around himself. He needs to go home. He needs to go back to his team. 

_ He can’t stay _ .

He presses his forehead to the surface and fights for control. He measures his breaths and his heart as he fumbles for the tablet. His palm slaps the desk and he stops at the beep. What did he just press?

There’s a soft whirr and he notices the wall shifting. A window. The panel moves to the side and reveals the view of space behind it. That’s a window. He lifts his hand and sees the small touch panel integrated into the surface. 

Huh.

He looks back to the window, to the nebula in the distance and the stars clustered around it. He gets the feeling not many rooms actually have this feature. The window is wide, wall to wall, and it makes the room seem bigger than it is. Shiro swallows and presses the button to close it. Too much right now. 

He turns his back to it as it shuts and picks up the tablet. 

He needs to speak to the Commander. 

He finds her in the list of contacts as he transfers to the bed. He opens a new conversation as he settles on the mattress. He taps out his question, quick and efficient, before setting it aside. 

“What do you know about Voltron?” 

He watches it for a minute, waiting, but nothing happens and Shiro sighs as he lays down. He stares at the ceiling despite the exhaustion that weighs in his bones. He closes his eyes but his mind runs. 

Where is everyone? Did they make it out okay? What are they doing without him? How far away are they?

He doesn’t sleep. 

\--

Hessa collects him early in the morning, the clock on the tablet says 5, and she looks at him like she doesn’t know what to make of him. “The Commander wants to see you,” she says. Then her eyes narrow and her mouth twitches like she wants to say more, but she turns on her heel and leads him away.

Commander Vix is on the console again when they arrive at the bridge, and she hops down at the sight of them. “Thank you, Lieutenant,” she says as she heads down a short hallway to the left. She beckons Shiro over her shoulder, and with a glance to Hessa, Shiro follows. 

Hessa doesn’t, he notices when they step into a room and she’s not behind him. There’s a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table on one side of the room and what looks like a kitchenette on the other. A break room. 

“Take a seat.” Commander Vix points to the couch as she hops to stand on the seat of one of the armchairs. Slowly, Shiro sits. “I was going to do this later,” she starts, “when you were more recovered and didn’t look like a stand-in for a Ymiran bog dancer. But your message last night raises some... intriguing questions that our Captain Holt cannot answer and if you’re well enough to ask, you’re well enough to answer some of my own. Agreed?”

She raises a brow and Shiro nods. “We found you in the T-12 quadrant,” she begins, “The Tragua system, specifically, and you were barely hanging on to life. Despite that, you held off 3 of my fighters, dodged one of my best snipers, and destroyed a Galra command centre all on your own. And don’t think we haven’t noticed your arm. 

“Holt insists that you’re trustworthy and I’m inclined to believe him. That man has yet to lead me wrong. But there are others on my ship that have also heard of you. They know your face and they know that arm and they told me you were called Champion, once. They told me you were dead.”

Shiro pales. His blood runs cold and he feels his heart skip a beat. He’s glad that he’s sitting, otherwise he’s sure he would’ve fallen. Commander Vix stares at him and her head tilts as she raises a brow. She waiting for a response, he realizes. 

He hears his own breath, voiceless words rasping through his throat as he tries to instinctively say, “I’m sorry.” Both of her brows raise then, and Shiro swallows hard. 

He picks up his tablet and opens the conversation with the Commander. He types his response and only reads it over once it’s already sent. There’s a dim flicker of surprise that there’s no typos, with as long as it is, then he focuses on the Commander’s reaction.

But she only hums while she reads it and Shiro can’t decipher the looks she gives him after. He feels rooted to the spot, like he’s taking an exam he didn’t study for and doesn’t know if he’ll pass. The Commander blinks once and then she smirks, actually smirks this time and it’s obvious in the way her teeth show. Pointed fangs gleam in the light and she gestures Shiro to the door. 

“Eat and rest, I’ll see you when Holt returns.”


	3. Bringing It Down

“You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?” Shiro’s sitting on his bed and there’s a faint tremble to his legs as he looks up from under his towel. After a week, it’s become a familiar tremble and it only comes after he’s been up for a while. Matt stands in the door to his room, arms crossed and completely exasperated. Shiro grins, unabashed. Matt rolls his eyes.

“Commander Vix has an assignment for you,” he says as he comes into the room. The door slides shut behind him. Shiro blinks and looks towards his tablet on the desk and sure enough, there’s a notification blinking in the corner. He lets the towel drop around his shoulders and brings up the message in a few quick swipes. 

  1. _Shirogane - Designation E5-4_



_ Report to K. Iyani in Hangar A for assessment by 1000. _

Succinct. He makes note of the time before he switches to memos and taps out a sentence. He can spare a couple minutes. He turns the screen towards Matt.

“Welcome back,” he reads, then snorts and shakes his head. “No voice, yet, huh?” Shiro shakes his head. Matt gives him a rueful smile and takes the tablet as he reads the note again. 

“I’m glad you’re doing better,” he says. He doesn’t look at Shiro and there’s a pained edge to his brow. But it passes quickly and when he hands the tablet back, the edge has faded and there’s a familiar teasing tilt to his lips.

“It’s almost a good thing you can’t speak right now. You won’t be able to sway Iyani to your side if you fuck up today.” Shiro gapes, then it’s in reflex that he takes the towel and smacks it over Matt’s shoulders. Matt laughs, loudly, and it’s the best thing Shiro’s heard in months. 

He had no idea how much he missed it.

He never wants to go without it again.

He doesn’t know what kind of face he’s making but it makes Matt quiet. He raises his hand, almost like he’s going to reach for Shiro, but he redirects and scratches the back of his head. “I missed you,” he says as his hand drops. Shiro catches it on the way down and doesn’t let go when Matt blinks in surprise. 

‘I missed you, too.’ He makes the words obvious, even with no voice behind them. He give Matt’s hand a squeeze and holds tighter when Matt grips back. It’s strong, he realizes. There’s power in the hold and he knows that as much as space has shaped him, it’s also shaped Matt. Shiro doesn’t know what he’s faced but the scar on his jaw already speaks volumes. Much like Shiro’s own face, he imagines. 

Matt takes a deep breath and he uses their grip to pull Shiro to his feet. “There’s a lot we need to talk about,” he says and Shiro nods. There’s a lot he needs to say, and there’s a lot he wants to ask. “But we’ll have time for that later. For now, you need to get changed. You're going outside today.” He gives Shiro his usual crooked smile and it makes Shiro relax on principle. 

He needs to get back to his team, back to the castle, and back to the fight. But to do that he needs to get stronger. He spends his days pacing, watching the stars pass his window until he can’t take the vastness of it. Then he wanders until he can’t go any further and Hessa has to drag him back to his room. 

It’s demoralizing, in all honesty. His energy fails him too quickly and he’s still working up to solids. He’s somewhere where he doesn’t know the system and the people in it have him on a leash. But at the very least, he has Matt again. 

Matt, who goes into the closet and comes out with a suit that looks like an actual disaster. Shiro looks at him deadpan and Matt bursts out laughing. Who decided these colours?

‘IT’S ORANGE’ He taps out and it only makes Matt laugh harder. 

“It looks- It looks better with the armor,” he says between gasps. “Trust me.” Shiro eyes him skeptically but steps into the bathroom with it all the same. Ten minutes later, he has it on along with everything else that Matt shoved through the door and he has to admit, at least to himself, that it doesn’t look terrible. He misses the black, though. He plucks at the orange sleeve that drapes partially over the bracer. 

Why does the undersuit have to be attached?

“Let’s go!” Matt calls, and Shiro sighs. Time to perform. He follows Matt out of the room, listening to the sound of his voice and not really paying attention to the words. 

He leaves the crutches behind. 

\---

The jets are small, single person crafts and the hanger bay is full of them. It’s also full of people, and it feels like all eyes are on them when the lift doors open. Matt leads him across the deck towards the jets along the left wall, and Shiro knows their destination by the small crowd gathered beneath it. 

Matt pats his shoulder as they approach and Shiro suddenly feels like he’s being thrown to the wolves. Especially when Matt veers off and the tall alien in the middle looks at him with stern eyes. Tall guy waves at the ship over his shoulder as the group begins to disperse.

“Prove to me you can fly,” he says, “and then I’ll consider your request.” Iyani, Shiro assumes, but he doesn’t introduce himself to confirm it. Thick, deep blue hair is braided over his shoulder and his dark skin is marked with white over his eyes. Shiro holds himself straight and nods. 

Iyani steps to the side and waves Shiro forward. He presses a mask into Shiro’s hands that doesn't look like much but when he puts it on, it expands to clutch close to his skull. A helmet. A cursory touch tells him it sealed to the neckline. 

...Okay, that’s cool. Who’s their engineer?

“Questions later.” Iyani’s voice is curt as he shoves Shiro towards the jet. “We’ll walk you through the launch but after that it’s up to you. Up you get.”

Entry is from above, a panel that splits down the middle and seals into a solid viewport above his head. Shiro drops into the seat and takes a minute to settle. It’s narrower than he expects, less side-to-side view and more top to bottom, but he can make it work. He presses the only glowing switch and the dash lights up around him.

“Eagle Four, stand by.” Iyani’s voice sounds through the cockpit and his ear and Shiro blinks. Eagle? “Throttle is to your right, indicators to your left, and control in the centre. Basic stuff. Switch on the throttle is to engage and disengage the engine. Right now, you’re disengaged and taxiing. Move to the laneway.”

Shiro feels his brow twitch as he follows Iyani’s directions.  

“Engage and wait for clear.”

How does he skip the tutorial? He flips the switch and he feels the ship hum around him. He watches the readings on the left slowly rise until a blue bar lights up on the side. 

“Eagle Four, clear for launch.” Shiro grins. Time to test the limits. 

He shoots out of the bay and immediately had to dodge. He twists to the right and banks down to avoid the line of fighters waiting for him. More appear when he clears the bottom of the ship and when they start shooting, understanding dawns. He keeps a hand on the throttle and grips the control, giddy excitement building in his chest. 

Challenge accepted. 

Bank left to avoid that barrage and roll over the group behind them. Twist down and under, redirect attention, draw it this way instead of that. How many ships are there?

Two, five, ten, seventeen, twenty? Dip and roll, nope. Twenty-two. Assume all of them can shoot. He pulls up on the control and arcs above his tail before banking right. Now, how to shoot back…

He scans the dash, but nothing is immediately apparent. Even the indicators on the left aren’t giving him any- Wait.

The ship jerks as another clips his wing and Shiro grits his teeth. This can’t be the only thing this ship can do. The readings are steady, barely shifting from where they were when he took off. The ships around him are spreading out, and he barely manages to avoid colliding with another as they make him turn back on himself.

He dodges another that forces him right and rolls around a barrage that has him facing the main ship. Another glancing blow sends him back and when Shiro twists around to face the ship again, he realizes what they’re doing. He grits his teeth and grips the throttle tight.

They’re herding him. 

His wrist twists on the throttle instinctively and for a moment, Shiro stalls. His thoughts and his ship drift. This isn’t Black, the ship doesn’t react the same, but… Experimentally, he pulls the throttle. The ship keeps speed, but the readings on the left start to rise. 

_ Bingo. _

Heart in his throat, he dodges another barrage and keeps an eye on the levels as they rise and the colours start to shift. Roll, bank, twist, don’t get hit. Arc down, dodge right, just a little bit more. An indicator flashes and Shiro bares his teeth.

Three ships are bearing down on him ahead and Shiro clicks the throttle back into place with a twist of his wrist. The ship vibrates around him and he’s gone. He shoots passed the trio of ships and the follow up behind them to break the net they’re starting to form. All of them scatter, and Shiro wants to crow victoriously as he wheels back around. 

He adjusts his grip on the control and his thumb brushes an indent along the side. His grin gets wider and he presses it without hesitation. More ships scatter around the rapid fire of his gun. After that, it’s a game of keep away as Shiro tags the other ships and flies circles around them. 

Eventually, the ships start to disperse and a signal pops up on his left. Shiro blinks at it and lets the ship’s speed slow. There’s another light flashing on the dash and when he presses it, Matt’s voice filters through seconds before the screen shows his face. 

He’s laughing, snickering really, in the way he usually does when he gets away with something. He can hear the Commander muttering in the back. “Mission success, Starshine. Or should I call you Ace, now?” Shiro sighs and shakes his head. He turns his course back towards the cruiser. 

“You haven’t lost your touch, as expected of the Garrison’s star pilot.” Matt’s praise falls easy as he leans back in his chair but Shiro cringes under the mask. Matt’s grin gains an edge, something sly, and he leans forward. “Did you like my ‘Eagle’ bit?”

Shiro’s eyes narrow beneath the mask and he turns to face Matt fully. Matt bursts out laughing and falls back with a clap of his hands. He really should’ve known. 

“Commander Vix says she’s going to work on your request, but it’s going to take a while,” Matt relays as his laughter fades. “In the meantime, there’s a conversation to be had. Hurry up and get back.” Then the image cuts out and Shiro shakes his head at the empty space.

That was fun while it lasted.

\--

Months pass. Shiro tries to keep track but he get caught up in the flurry of action with the resistance. For all that they’re quiet, they’re busy. Commander Vix puts him on Matt’s team once he’s well enough and Shiro learns a new side to him very quickly.

He’s decidedly vicious and extremely efficient. With the job they’re in, they kind of have to be. Lives depend on them in the quiet corners of the universe. It’s a stark difference to the man that pulls Shiro into his room at the end of the day. 

He doesn't want to lose that. He doesn’t want to lose the version of Matt that no one else sees, that crowds close to him in bed and whispers promises and assurances to get him to sleep. He doesn’t want to lose the man that calls him ‘Starshine’ to the backdrop of space.

So Shiro fights next to him to make sure that doesn’t happen. 

“I think this counts as a success, don’t you?”

Shiro breaths a sigh of relief as he relaxes, arm going dark and the sense of danger fading. He pulls a cloth from his pocket and wipes off the blood stuck to the metal. Matt’s eyes practically shine through his mask as he picks a crystal from one of the many bodies littering the floor. 

“I’d rather avoid almost dying next time, thanks,” Gorick quips as he slings his gun back, and Matt takes the opportunity to chuck the crystal at him. It bounces off the top of his head with a sharp yelp and Inah snorts a laugh. 

“Come on. Get your bags and start collecting,” Matt directs as he stands. “The next base is only 10 lightyears away, it’s not going to take them long to notice something’s up.” He starts pulling sacks from his pockets as Gorick grumbles and rubs petulantly at his head. 

Shiro wanders to the other side of the room, pulling out his own bags to start collecting. He nudges one body with a foot, their robes hiding much of their form. They don’t hide the crystals they tried to make away with though, and Shiro bends to pick up the couple that falls out of a pocket. He wipes blood off them, too. 

More crystals are stored in cases along the wall and Inah is making quick work of them. By the time they’re done, they’ve got 6 bags between them and the communications line in the next room in beginning to sound.

“Time to clear out,” Inah says and no one argues. He leads the way back towards the ship, just incase there’s someone left alive and Shiro brings up the rear. But there’s nobody. At least, nobody willing to risk themselves, and they manage to leave without any more fuss. 

Now, Shiro would call it a success. Even if they only managed to get a bunch of crystals. 

“So, what are these things for?” Gorick asks when they’re all back together. Shiro is thankful he’s not the one to do it.

“Power cells for the resistance placements,” Inah replies. “The satellite groups are running low.”

Gorick sighs. “Nice to know we’ve upgraded from minor errands to more dangerous errands. Just what I wanted in life.” Shiro gives a weary sigh. He can agree with the sentiment. 

“Message from G2, forwarded by the Commander,” Matt says from the front of the ship. Everyone turns but Shiro knows just from the tone that it’s important. “I’m sending it to you too, Shiro,” he adds and Shiro looks at the icon that lights up at his station.

“G2, aren’t they in the Valurian quadrant?” Gorick questions and Inah hums in response. Shiro opens the message with only mild curiosity.

Voltron immediately catches his attention. Matt must hear the hitch in his breath because he murmurs a small, “I know.”

“Captain?”

“One of the Voltron lions has been poking around and Luther finally decided to do something about it. Apparently the Galra also got involved and there was a fight. We won, but the Valurian base is a toss.”

Gorick curses and Matt hums. 

“We’re heading back, then,” Inah surmises.

“After Pharos, yeah,” Matt sighs. “The rest of the bases still need their power.” Then the conversation sort of dies but Shiro keeps reading over the message. Attached is a grainy image of the Green Lion with the tail of Yellow in the corner. Pidge and Hunk. The message doesn’t say anything about the others, though. 

“Shiro?” Matt’s voice is closer than he expects, and Shiro jumps. He shakes his head and leans back against his seat. Matt huffs. “Don’t go quiet on me, Shiro, talk.”

He presses against the top of his seat, makes it turn, and Shiro lets it go. Matt kneels in front of him and, after a moment, holds his hand out. “You’re not hiding from me now, Starshine,” he says and Shiro huffs a laugh. Fair enough. How long has it been? Six months? Seven? He takes off his mask and Matt smiles. Then it softens. 

“This is Voltron, I thought you’d be more excited.” Shiro thought so, too. But there’s a pit growing in his stomach, a sense of unease as he wonders about the rest of the team. 

Unbidden, he remembers the Galra ship he ended up on. He remembers the chamber and the clone that held him by the throat, horrified and angry, just as he was.

_ How does it feel? _

“Shiro.”

Shiro jumps and Matt looks apologetic for all of a second before it’s washed with concern. Shiro swallows the bitter taste at the back of his throat. ‘Where’s the rest?’ He mouths. Matt shakes his head. 

“There’s isn’t any. What I sent you is what I got.” He frowns and a crease forms in his brow.

‘Of Voltron.’

“ _ Nothing _ . Shiro, that’s it. That’s all I got. If there’s more, it’s still being delivered. We’re days from the Crusader, if you’ll remember.” The crease deepens, like he’s getting frustrated much like Shiro is. So he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Matt sighs.

“It’s been six months,” he says and Shiro nods. It feels like longer. “I honestly expected it to take more time; communication is slow for a reason.” It doesn’t make Shiro miss the castleship’s instant communication any less. 

‘How long to Pharos?’ he asks and Matt huffs. 

“A quintant at most,” he says. “Maybe they’ll have something there.” That’s what Shiro hopes. He turns and gets out of his seat, starts pacing towards the back of the ship. He’s too keyed up to keep sitting. Matt sighs again as he stands. 

“Try and get some sleep,” Matt tells him as he goes to leave the bridge. Right. Sleep. He doesn’t even entertain it before putting it down as a lost cause. The door hisses closed behind him.

\--

Pharos doesn’t have anything for them, much to Shiro’s dual dismay and relief. They drop off the crystals and, after a brief jaunt through the market, they’re back on track. Shiro’s reclined in his seat staring at the ceiling as he listens to Gorick slurp on fruit. For this instant, he wishes he was deaf instead of mute. 

At one point, Gorick moans low in his throat, and Shiro covers his face with both of his hands. 

“Must you make love with your food?” Inah growls but it only serves to make Gorick louder. Shiro moves his hands to his ears. The moaning melts pretty quickly into snickers and Shiro fully agrees with Inah’s disgusted scoffs. Matt, somehow, seems impervious to it all. 

Actually…

Shiro sits up and cranes his head to see around Inah’s station. Matt’s hidden from view, likely slouched in his seat, and there’s something on his screen. Something that’s taking up all his attention. 

It looks like a message. Old or new, though, he can’t tell.

There’s another obnoxious slurp from Gorick and Shiro picks up a fruit from his own untouched pile. It splats satisfyingly against Gorick’s head and Gorick inhales the rest.

_ “Quiznack!” _ he coughs over Inah’s bark of laughter. Shiro gets up as Gorick pounds his check and accepts the high-five Inah lifts his arm for as he goes by. 

“Nurse you back to health and this is the thanks I get?” Gorick’s voice rasps. Shiro only feels a little bit sorry. 

“Take a drink, you’ll be fine,” Inah tells him. 

Matt looks up when Shiro stops behind his chair. He looks confused as he pushes his headset around his neck. “Message from the Commander, but it’s strange,” he says. He points to the top of the screen, at the date and time that quote today. Shiro raises a brow.

“There are no same day messages unless different channels were used or we’re nearby and we’re still days away from the ship. I ran the diagnostic to check for abnormalities but the frequencies haven’t changed.” The message is still unopened and Matt doesn’t seem inclined to be the one to do it. Especially when he gets up and starts pacing behind his chair. 

“Unless the Crusader moved, that might shorten the distance. But then why wouldn’t they notify us beforehand. Why…”

Shiro leans over Matt’s chair and opens the message. 

“This is Commander Vix to Flight Crews A7, A8, B2, E5, and G2. Rendezvous has relocated to Sector Delta-6, please adjust your course accordingly. Coordinates are attached. Safe travels.”

Shiro blinks at the numbers that pop up afterwards. 

“An audio message, that’s new,” Gorick notes as Matt hurries back into his seat. 

“New and risky,” he says. “Inah, input those coordinates and tell me where they lead.”

“Not far.” Inah sends a dry look over his shoulder. “We’re already in Delta-6.”

“Did they come to us?” Gorick looks like he’s about to climb over his seat. Or fall out of it.

“Seems like it.” 

Shiro looks at Matt who’s scrolling through the rest of the message. They both notice the attachment at the same time. From Hessa? They share a look and Matt opens it.

It’s another audio file, but it starts with a lot of noise and a high paced chatter Shiro recognises in a heartbeat. “Holt,” Hessa’s voice comes through, sounding thoroughly annoyed, “Call your pithy gods and tell them to get this curse away from me. The universe doesn’t need two of you.” There’s a distant ‘No, wait!’ in the background before the message cuts. 

Shiro’s heart leaps to his throat as their eyes meet. Matt’s are wide and questioning as Shiro straightens.

“Was that Hessa?” Gorick asks. He’s ignored as Shiro turns to Inah.

‘Go,’ he mouths, and points to the coordinates flashing on Inah’s screen as he goes to his seat.

Inah frowns. “Shiro?”

“Captain?”

“Tell us where we’re heading, Inah,” Matt sighs. Shiro drops in his chair and pulls up the radar, searching for nearby planets, moons, anything. Three show up immediately, one closer than the others. 

“Caeros,” Inah says as Shiro looks up. An image of the planet is brought up on the viewport, looking much like Earth just with less ocean. Two moons are barely visible behind it.

“Huh.” Matt clears the image and flips the ship from autopilot. “Looks like you’re going home. How long?”

“Five vargas. Three if we go manual.”

“Alright.” Matt brings his headset back up around his ears. “Buckle up boys, we’re running this.”


	4. Ricochet

“Home sweet home,” Inah murmurs as they approach Caeros. It’s not much different than the image, large landforms and small oceans. From what Shiro can see, it looks very arid. The Crusader looms in front of it, impressive in its own right as it orbits the planet.

“Eagle One incoming for docking,” Matt calls through the radio. It doesn’t take Iyani long to respond.

“Hangar C is ready,” he says. “Once you’re in, you’re wanted in the bridge. We’ve got some visitors.”

“Apparently.” Matt frowns as he maneuvers the ship to the Crusader’s starboard side. Shiro sees it as soon as they clear the shadow. 

The Castle of Lions is also in orbit, barely visible over the curve. Hope flares in his chest as he grips the arms of his seat. It quickly turns sour when he realizes something else. This distance away, he should be able to feel Black. He should’ve felt her much sooner, actually, far before he saw the ship.

He can’t feel a thing. 

Her voice is missing. The steady thrum of power, gone. 

It’s because Keith took over, he tells himself, heart in his throat. Keith is the Black Paladin now. Keith has the connection, not him. There’s no need to worry. He tells himself that the entire time they’re docking. 

He’s barely aware of himself as he follows Matt out. He should be excited. This is his team. This is  _ Voltron _ . He can go  _ back _ . He stares at the back of Matt’s head. They’re gathered in the elevator heading directly for the bridge. 

“Wanna take a jaunt planetside?” Matt asks Inah who shrugs. 

“Maybe later,” he says, like he hasn’t just come home after who knows how long. “I want to see what the fuss is about.”

“Why are you asking him now when we’re already in the lift?” Gorick points out and Matt bristles. 

_ His team _ .

When did he stop wanting to leave? 

“How’re you doing, Starshine?” Shiro gasps and blinks. Matt has drawn closer, gold eyes pinched in worry. His hand reaches out and Shiro takes it out of habit. The gentle squeeze puts a lump in his throat. 

Shiro swallows around it and shakes his head. 

“Later?”

Shiro nods. 

The lift stops with a heavy clang audible from the well. The doors open much quieter. They’re on the lead up to the bridge, surrounded by more lifts that lead to the rest of the ship. There’s a small part of Shiro that wants to turn and go back to his room. 

But Matt’s hand is still in his, and Matt doesn’t let go as he heads for the doors. 

Commander Vix is waiting on the console and she points down the side corridor without saying anything. With the still quiet of the pit, Shiro can hear voices drift down. 

“What happened?” Gorick asks and the Commander sighs. 

“The Paladins of Voltron requested a meeting. With you in particular,” she says and points to Matt. 

“Me?” Matt points to himself and Shiro, knowing the voice he can hear down the hall, starts to grin. Maybe this won’t be so bad. Commander Vix catches the look on his face with a sharp flash of her teeth. 

“I think you’ll enjoy them,” she tells Matt. “Go on ahead. I need to talk to Shirogane.” 

Matt blinks and frowns as he shoots Shiro a look over his shoulder. His amusement doesn’t fade even as Matt’s eyes narrow. “You’re hiding something,” he says. Shiro shrugs and gestures Matt down the hall. 

“Oh!” Gorick bounces on his toes. “These are Shiro’s friends, right? I want to meet them!”

“Well, come on, then,” Matt says and gives Shiro one final look before he goes down the hall. Gorick is on his heels, looking every part like an eager child.

“Inah?” Shiro turns to Inah as Commander Vix tilts her head. Inah’s arms are crossed and he’s watching Shiro with mild concern.

“I think I’ll stay,” he says, “if that’s alright.” The Commander’s attention flicks to Shiro, almost like she’s… asking permission? Slowly, Shiro nods. 

“Very well,” she says and turns to her console. “I figured you might want to know about this beforehand.” She brings up a window, a screenshot, and Shiro freezes. 

It’s the bridge in the Castle of Lions, probably grabbed from their first call, and everybody’s there. His blood thunders in his ears. There’s Allura, Coran… And all of the Paladins. He can’t look away. He can barely breathe. 

_ How does it feel? _

Inah steps in front of him, blocks his view, and Shiro looks up at him with wide eyes. His breath quakes in his chest, too much and not enough. He staggers back, nearly falls, but Inah takes him by the arms and lowers him to the floor. 

_ How? _

“Shiro.” Inah’s voice is low. Shiro tries to focus on it. “You need to breathe, Shiro.” He shakes his head. “Yes,” Inah insists. “Focus on me. Breathe.” He gasps, rapid and quick, and squeezes his eyes shut. He feels light, barely there. Like Inah’s grip is the only thing keeping him anchored. 

“Come on, Shiro, you can do it.”

Can he?

“Shiro!” Matt’s voice cuts through the fog and Shiro starts. His eyes shoot open as his heart leaps double time, and suddenly everything’s too loud. Too bright. For the first time in a while, Shiro wants to scream. 

Inah backs away as Matt comes up and Shiro doesn’t fight the tug and pull into his arms. He buries his face into  Matt’s shoulder, eyes closed against the press of fabric. 

“Oh, god,” he hears Matt murmur and Shiro clutches tight. 

Distantly, there’s a clamor down the hall. A quick, ‘Wait, wait!’ Then Gorick’s loud, “I’m sorry!” Matt tenses at the sound of hurried feet and Shiro instinctively looks up. Keith skids to a halt and Pidge comes up hard beside him. She gasps in a breath and it comes out in a statement Shiro agrees with wholeheartedly.

“Oh, fuck.”

Everyone is silent. Still. Shiro holds his breath. Then, quietly-

“Shiro?” Keith is hesitant. His hands shakes as they lift almost subconsciously. Shiro’s grip tightens on the back of Matt’s cloak.

Get up.

He doesn’t. He can’t move. Can’t blink, can’t look away. Shiro swallows hard and nods. Keith inhales shakily as Matt shifts and Shiro lets him pull away. He still doesn’t let go. Pidge is looking between him and the image Commander Vix still has loaded. Keith only glances at it once.

“How?” he asks. Shiro doesn’t have an answer. He takes a breath, curses how much it trembles, and lurches to his feet. Matt rises with him and Inah braces his arm for balance when he staggers too far back.

“Matt?” Pidge turns to her brother for answers no one can give. 

“I think we need to have a talk.” Matt says. He’s grim faced and Pidge accepts with a stilted nod. 

“We can go to the castleship,” she offers and Shiro’s shaking his head before he realizes it. 

_ Not again! _

His throat feels tight. He forces himself to breathe through it. Matt’s lips are pressed thin as he nods once. 

“Not the castleship,” he agrees and turns to Inah.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Inah nods and leaves Shiro to lean on Matt as he steps down to the bullpen. Matt accepts him easy with an arm around his waist and a hand against his chest. The armor blocks most of it but Shiro can feel the heat. The band around his lungs ease. 

Keith steps closer, but stops when everyone looks at him. He swallows nervously, eyes darting around the circle, but they don’t stray from Shiro long. There’s concern, a deep seated worry, and Shiro waits. 

“How long?” he asks. No one answers. Shiro’s lips thin and he can feel Matt take a deep breath and hold it. Keith starts to look more and more desperate. 

“We found him almost seven pheobs ago,” the Commander finally states. “Alone on an expired Balmera, presumably abandoned by the Galra.”

“Seven months ago,” Pidge translates, gaze distant. Then she gasps, “That ship!” Keith looks like he’s in pain.

“The ship we recovered Shiro on,” he says. The step he takes back almost seems like reflex. Shiro tenses and he feels Matt’s fingers dig into his skin. The silence is deafening. 

Commander Vix sighs. “I don’t believe we’re going to get anymore done here,” she says. She hops down from the console and Shiro realizes the screenshot is long gone. She crosses between them, the top of her horns only barely coming to their waists, and opens the door. “Gorick, lead them to their pod, please. They’re docked in Hanger B.”

“Wait!” Keith hurries forward, hand reaching for Shiro, and only stops when Matt refuses to get out of the way. He looks at Shiro, a desperate gleam in his eyes. “How do we know you’re him? How do we know you’re Shiro? Do you remember us? Do you remember being a Paladin?” Haltingly, Shiro nods. Keith somehow looks even more distressed as his eyes flick between Shiro’s eyes.

“Say it for me! Tell me you remember!” Shiro feels unbalanced and the pressure of Matt’s hand on his back gets harder. 

“Keith.” Matt’s tone is low. Warning.

“Tell me the last thing that happened!” Shiro grits his teeth and takes a deep breath. His eyes feel hot. 

Pidge steps forward, arm extended, “Keith, I don’t think-”

‘I’m proud of you.’ 

Keith sucks in a ragged breath. Shiro can hear his heart in his ears, an unsteady pound that he tries to smile through. The desperation in Keith’s shoulders fades with each beat.

“You-”

“Let’s go, Keith.” Pidge takes his arm and guides him to the door. The look she gives Shiro is one of calculating concern, but not malice. Shiro almost wishes it was. 

“Let us know where we’re meeting,” she tells Matt who nods with a murmur. Shiro can’t tear his eyes from Keith. His throat feels tight.

I missed you. I still miss you. I tried to come back.

Tried.

For a few seconds, Shiro is stretched thin. He’s a rubber band stretched to the max. The slightest pressure will make him snap. His breath echoes in his ears in time with his heart. Keith disappears through the door with a hiss that sounds too loud. 

“Sit down, Shiro,” Matt murmurs in his ear. Shiro takes a shaking step back before he sinks down. He doesn’t expect a chair to be there but he’s grateful for it when there is. He leans forward and rests his forehead on Matt’s shoulder.

They’re quiet as Shiro collects himself, Matt’s breath a steady guide. His hand comes up to run through his hair and Shiro presses into it. It’s not long before he can think again. Remove the stressor, ease the mind. Shiro sighs. 

There’s a hitch in Matt’s breath, a laugh that barely made it past concept. “This whole clone business is like that one Doctor Who episode,” Matt says in his ear. The laugh is sudden and Shiro trembles with it as he shakes his head against Matt’s shoulder. Of course. 

Matt grins like a self satisfied cat. 

“I’ve got access codes,” Inah tells them shortly after. He stands on the steps as they turn towards him. “The Ymiran Airfield will be ready in a few vargas.” Shiro and Matt finally separate and share a look before they stand. Time to face the music. 

\--

The air on Caeros is thin. Like being on a mountain top, Shiro notes, but it’s only a small distraction from the nervous energy that runs through him. Matt looks at him from the ground and Shiro takes a deep breath before he finally steps down. Inah and Gorick come up on the other side, guns strapped to their backs.

“Welcome to Caeros,” Inah introduces as he crosses his arms. “When this is done, I’ll buy you a drink to get you acquainted.”

“Good old-fashioned Caeran water,” Matt snorts, “the stuff of dreams.”

“Don’t ruin it now.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Shiro’s lips, but it drops quickly when he sees the Black Lion land. She crouches down and her jaw opens, but she’s far enough away that Shiro can’t make out who exits right away. Not that he needs to see to know. 

The one with his voice and his armor. He remembers a hand on his throat and eyes full of rage. His hand comes up, he doesn’t even realize it at first, and Matt takes it before he can do more than brush his collar with his fingers. 

“What’s wrong?” Matt asks, brow furrowed. 

_ Everything _ , Shiro wants to say. There’s someone in his place and he doesn’t know if he’s even real anymore. His stomach twists with the thought of the unknown. But it’s all ambiguous feelings and half formed thoughts. It’s too much to figure out, let alone write.

He digs out the tablet and types, ‘Be careful,’ instead. Matt’s lips purse and he steps back into the ship. He comes back with his laser rifle in his arms, staff strapped to his back and Shiro thinks, ‘Good enough.’

Gorick clicks his tongue and pulls his forward with a sigh. “Prepared for potential hostilities, Captain,” he says as Inah does the same. Matt’s frown deepens and he gives Shiro another questioning look.

“Are you sure?” he asks and Shiro ducks his head. “We can always call this off. Find another way to sort this out. We don’t have to do this in person.”

Shiro takes a deep breath and nods. He focuses his attention forward and realizes, with another grim twist of his gut, that the rest of the team is there too. There’s five people gathered at the feet of the Black lion, and he’s  _ not one of them _ . 

“Weapons down,” Matt directs as he strides ahead. The nose of his rifle is pointed towards the ground. “These are only talks.”

“Pretty scary talks,” Gorick mutters under his breath and Shiro can’t help but agree. It feels like they’re going to war. The final attempt at negotiations before the fire fight.

They’re really not that far apart from each other. Shiro watches as they also begin their walk to meet them in the middle, every step brings them clearer into focus. 

The face from the Galra ship flashes to the forefront. Fear and anger and the unfettered drive to survive. And now, as Shiro locks onto the face across the distance, he can see his own emotions reflected again. They’re there in the set of his shoulders and the controlled pace of his steps. Nervous apprehension and the resolve to find answers. 

Shiro can’t tear his eyes away.

It’s like looking in a mirror, but he wishes it was one of those fun house mirrors. The kind that warps the reflection, makes a joke out of the image, and not… whatever this is. Their eyes meet across the distance and Shiro forces himself to keep walking. 

He doesn’t want this.

His heart is pounding and he can feel sweat cling to the back of his neck. They’re getting closer. Black looms in the background and Shiro still can’t feel her. A question burns in the back of his mind. 

He doesn’t want the knowledge the answer will bring. 

The clone - and Shiro doesn’t even know if that’s the truth - turns his head slightly. He turns towards Keith whose lips are moving in a question. His eyes don’t leave Shiro’s, grey on grey, but the angle changes and for an instant, Shiro sees yellow.

Galra yellow in the flash of the sun.

Shiro runs.

He bolts across the airfield and the pitch of his arm rings in his ear. There’s surprise in the clone’s eye that’s quickly covered by grim acceptance. Shiro grits his teeth. If he could, he’d be yelling. Matt’s yelling enough for the both of them anyway. 

Shiro name rings in the air from both sides, a call for him and a call for the man in his place. A shot glances off his shoulder, deflected by the armor. Shiro looks and he sees Lance, grim faced behind his sights. Another shot lands against his chest and Shiro reels. 

Lance shot him. 

He can hear Matt cursing up a storm behind him as he crashes to the asphalt. Shiro absorbs the impact as best he can. He rolls to his feet, eyes darting around the field and he lurches to the side to dodge another shot. 

It lands on his shoulder again and he hears the armor crack. One more and it’s broken. Inah lands between them, teeth bared in a snarl, and blocks Shiro effectively from Lance’s sight. There’s a brief breath of relief and then Keith is on him, sword bared and angry.

Their eyes meet for an instant and Shiro  _ fights _ . 

They fall into a rhythm, the quick back and forth that usually forms in their spars. Keith knows it too with the way his lips turn down. But Shiro isn’t here to spar. His attacks turn towards vicious, less care for himself and even less for his opponent. 

It’s brutal.

But there’s reluctance in the strikes that get close. The stabs that get deflected too easily and the slashes that read too far ahead. Keith overextends once and he knows immediately that he’s lost. Shiro steps into his guard, pulls his arm even further, and Keith is tossed over his shoulder with his bayard in thrown in another direction. 

“Stop!” the clone yells, something ragged in his voice. Shiro doesn't listen, can’t listen. There’s fire in his veins and an imposter wearing his face. 

He needs to get rid of it. 

He half expects the clone to be wielding the black bayard. He’s wearing the armor, piloting the lion, why not wield the weapon. But he’s met fist for fist with an arm that sings like his. They spark as they clash, bits of metal chipping away. It figures the only thing that can damage it is itself. 

“Stop this!” the clone shouts. Shiro grits his teeth and presses the attack. He can’t say anything even if he wanted to. Shiro kicks, punches, dodges, and counters, but he’s blocked at every turn. 

“You don’t have to do this!”

His ears ring and his head pounds.

“Shiro!” 

Eliminate the copy.

“Shiro, listen to me!”

The Black lion roars and Shiro feels it in his bones. He sees the clone -  _ is he even the clone? _ \- flinch and Shiro wants to scream.  _ You took my place, you took my life! _

He doesn’t even have his voice. 

Shiro latches onto the collar of the armor and the clone -  _ he has to be the clone _ \- falls back. His legs come up, tries to brace against Shiro’s chest to kick him off. 

There’s something wrong. 

The Black lion roars -  _ did it even stop? _ \- and Shiro drops. 


	5. Monster

He wakes up all at once, panic in his veins, but even as he leaps from the bed, he knows things are different. A headache lingers at his temples, his breath heavy in his ears. But the fight is gone and Shiro stands alone in Matt’s room. He spins on his heel and catches sight of Caeros through the window.

Shit.

The adrenaline leaves him all at once and he sits on the bed before he falls to the floor. When the door opens, he doesn’t even respond. Matt’s gait, uneven for his limp, is steady as he approaches and Shiro doesn’t pull away from the hand that threads through his hair.

“It’s getting long,” he comments after a moment, and holds a lock above his head in demonstration. It drops in front of Shiro’s eyes when he lets go and Shiro blinks at it. He didn’t even notice. Matt pulls it back again and Shiro closes his eyes as he leans into the touch.

He always kept his hair short, but he didn’t notice it getting long.

What else is different?

Matt shifts and Shiro’s shoulder brushes against his leg before he leans closer to Matt’s warmth. He presses his face into Matt’s torso and tries to forget the last few hours as he clutches at Matt’s back. Matt sighs above him.

“Pidge took some samples,” he says. His hand continues its steady strokes over Shiro’s scalp. “She’s gonna run some tests.” Shiro only presses closer. Matt shifts again and Shiro moves with him as he lowers himself to the bed.

“You’re still Shiro,” he says. Shiro presses his nose to Matt’s throat.

Is he really?

Matt’s hand doesn’t stop moving.

“You’re the man that saved me from the arena. You still laugh at my shitty puns and you have a penchant for doing the impossible. As far as I’m concerned, you are Shiro and that’s the only thing that matters.” His arm comes around Shiro’s shoulders and his hold is just as desperate.

“You are the man that I’ve spent the last six months with, not him.”

But is he real?

He feels exhausted. Wrung out and stretched thin. He can’t get the image out of his head, that other Shiro holding him by the throat.

_How does it feel to be on the other end?_

It feels fucking terrible.

He wants to rant and rave at the injustice, rage at the Galra for doing something so cruel. But whatever they did, it left him without a voice and separated from everything he knew. He grits his teeth and buries his face further. He ignores the burn in his eyes.

Distantly, he hears Matt’s tablet beep. He ignores that, too. He focuses on Matt’s nails as they scrape over his scalp, and Matt’s hand that runs calming lines down his back. They’re a small distraction, but the burn in his eyes lessens and Shiro can feel the tension fade with every pass.

“I will always be here,” Matt promises. Shiro tries to believe him.

At some point, he loses track of time. Matt’s hands slow but they never stop moving and he swears he hears Gorick through the door once. But Matt doesn’t respond and Shiro lets it go. Doesn't point it out. He lets himself be lulled and takes the moment for what it is.

He doesn’t notice Matt’s tablet make a different noise until Matt grunts under him and makes to roll over. But Shiro holds tighter and rolls them further away. Matt’s laugh ruffles the hair on his brow.

“Can’t ignore the Commander, Starshine,” he murmurs as his hand runs up the side of Shiro’s neck. Shiro wrinkles his nose but he lets his grip relax. Matt doesn’t leave him for long and Shiro opens his eyes when the bed sinks beneath them.

Matt’s face is made paler by the tablet, but his expression is passive and his response is short before he sets it down. “Nothing urgent,” he says, voice quiet and Shiro breaths a short sigh of relief. “We do need to talk to them again, however. Tomorrow, she says.” And with that, dread forms in his chest and he feels sleep slip away like the forgotten trails of a dream.

Of course. It’s not like he didn’t fuck up enough already.

He rolls to his back and takes a deep breath before heaving himself upright. He can feel Matt watching him, his gaze burning the back of his neck.

“We have… things we can use to,” he hesitates and his hand waves as he searches for a word. “Deactivate,” he settles on. “We can deactivate your arm so we don’t have a repeat performance of today. We can give one to you and one to the other… To the other Shiro. If it helps.”

That would certainly decrease the damage, wouldn’t it? Shiro turns his palm over in his lap and stares at the lines of metal. There’s gouges along the sides, nicks and scratches and dents all over the surface. It never occurred to him that his arm could look like this. He feels Matt draw close, feels his heat before he drapes himself over Shiro’s left side.

“Talk to me, Starshine,” he says. His breath over Shiro’s shoulder sends shivers down his spine. “Don’t bottle this.” He slips the tablet onto Shiro’s lap, already set to the memo page.

It’s a struggle for his next breath to stay steady.

Where does he even start?

Matt’s breath is even in his ear and Shiro uses it to steady his own. One breath, two, and Matt catches on as he breaths with him.  Haltingly, he taps out the first sentence. Start from the beginning, they always say.

‘After Zarkon, I woke up alone on a Galra ship.’ Matt’s breathing doesn't change. ‘I was strapped to a table in the dark, only able to see by the light of my own hand. I don’t remember how I got there. I don’t even remember how long I’d been there.

‘I broke free, tried to escape, but I ran into a chamber. A pod and’

And-

_I won’t let you take me again!_

He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes. There’s a crack of glass, and he jerks back and back and back until he hits the table.

_Why?_

His mind scrambles for answers but he can’t find a reason. There’s a clone - _or is he the clone?_ -

Hands grab his shoulders and Shiro bucks. He kicks with his legs and strikes with his arms and he lunges to the side when the clone grunts. He doesn’t expect the floor to disappear. The drop is short, but it’s still jarring and he hits the ground with a ragged cry. Except there is no cry because he doesn’t have a voice.

_He doesn’t have a voice, they took his voice._

His eyes shoot open and the light blinds him. Someone is speaking but he can’t hear them over the rushing in his ears. The clone, it has to be the clone. The clone that took his place, took his life, _why not take his voice, too?_

_What more do they want?_

A shadow looms - _the clone_ \- and Shiro moves to defend. The sound of his arm rings in his ear. The clone doesn’t move, though. Shiro blinks through the haze, tries to hear over the ringing rush in his ears. The room is brighter than it should be. Less purple, less metallic, less…

This isn’t-

“...’re safe, it’s just me, just Matt-”

_Matt._

Shiro locks onto him kneeling on the bed, arms raised, palms out. His voice is a level tone, constant and familiar as he repeats the same thing over and over.

_You’re safe, it’s just me, just Matt. You’re on the Crusader, there’s no Galra here. You’re with me and you’re safe. You’re safe, Shiro, you’re safe._

His arm deactivates as he sags against the wall and Matt falls quiet. Then, ever so gently, “You with me, Starshine?” Not Shiro. _Starshine_. The one name he can claim as his own. Shiro swallows hard and nods.  

“Can I come closer?” He nods again. Matt stays low as he steps fluidly off the bed and comes to kneel at Shiro’s side. He’s pale and thin lipped. His hands hover like he doesn’t know what to do with them. But his gaze is steady and there’s no fear in his eyes.

“Can I touch you?”

Shiro can’t help the shiver that runs through him. It climbs up his arms, down his spine and leaves his toes tingling. He remembers the hand wrapped around his throat with a choking gasp. And Matt draws away, still there but further and Shiro shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” Matt’s saying, “just listen to my voice. You’re okay.”

Shiro keeps shaking his head, turning and reaching towards Matt. ‘Please,’ he begs and Matt’s there, arms a solid weight around him as he’s pulled close.

“I’m sorry,” Matt breaths into his hair. A kiss presses against his brow that Shiro closes his eyes to. “I’m so sorry.” Fingers comb through the back of his hair, as constant as Matt’s voice as he whispers apologies and comforts. Shiro clutches the back of Matt’s shirt and presses closer when his fingers start to shake.

At least he has this.

\--

Shiro takes a fortifying breath as he stands in front of the mirror. He’s fully dressed in his armor and his mask rests on the counter. His hair _is_ longer, he sees it now that he looks for it. He runs his hand through the top and pulls the length of it in front of his eyes. Surely someone on this ship can cut it. He sighs and arranges it back in place.

Later.

He steps into the room and Matt looks up after clasping his brace.

“You ready?” he asks. Shiro nods. He brings out his tablet and taps out a short request.

‘The thing for my arm. Where is it?’ The idea of being weaponless rankles, but they’re going to the castleship today. He should be safe there. They all should be. The look Matt gives him is understanding.

“We’ll pick it up on the way,” he says as he picks up his own tablet. The spidering cracks in the screen catch the light and draws Shiro eye . “Grab one for you and one for- uh-” He clears his throat and Shiro tries to smile. It’s a parody, at best.

“We can do this,” Matt says as he stands. “Remember, it’s not just you out there. I’m with you the whole way.” His hand comes up and Shiro clasps it in his before pulling him in for a hug. “You’re still Shiro.”

He’s still Shiro.

He can… almost believe it.

They pick up the cuff from the armory, a non-descript thing that Shiro doesn’t think will work at first. Testing it out probably shouldn’t make him relax as much as it does, but it’s one less thing to worry about. Even if he does lose control, he can’t use his arm to hurt anybody.

It stays on beneath his armor and presses awkwardly against his side. He doesn’t like it, but it’s a necessary discomfort. He watches Matt pocket another before they continue.

They decide to take a couple of the single jets. Gorick and Inah are staying on the Crusader. Shiro’s reacquainting himself with the controls when Pidge calls. He accepts it with half a thought before he goes back to readying the jet. Matt can speak for the both of them.

“First off, the Galra are insane but I’m pretty sure we all knew that,” Pidge starts. “I just finished my tests and the results are pretty typical for what we’ve seen of them so far. I’ll tell you everything when you get here but I just wanted you to know beforehand that there is good news and bad news.”

“When isn’t there,” Matt quips and Pidge shushes him.

“There’s been some arguing over where to hold this, though,” she says. “The bridge is an option, but I personally would rather have it in the med bay incase something happens. We don’t know the causes from yesterday and there’s no telling if it’ll happen again.”

“Well, we do have one thing,” Matt points out. Shiro assumes he’s holding up the neutralizing cuff. “We tested it. Shiro’s arm doesn't work through it.”

“That’ll help things. Hopefully.” Pidge hums thoughtfully then clears her throat. “I’ll let the others know. Someone’ll meet you in the bay. Or, well-” Her attention seems to shift and Shiro remembers rather suddenly that she can see both of them. He looks at her through the feed he was previously ignoring.

She’s biting her lip, looking strangely unsure. Shiro smiles softly and shrugs.

He taps against the edge of the dash. ‘I can't be a guide if I don’t know where everyone is.’

“Morse code?” Pidge blinks and Matt laughs.

“Yeah. Just have someone meet us,” he says and Pidge looks away. “They can take us wherever you decide to host us.”

“Will do.” The glance she sends towards Shiro looks sad before the feed cuts. Sad and a little bit regretful. Matt sighs wistfully before he can think about what it might mean.

“She's grown up so much,” he says. Shiro ignores the crack in his voice. He knows.

“Eagle Two, Eagle Five, stand by.” Iyani’s voice cuts through his thoughts. Matt clears his throat as Shiro grips the throttle.

“Eagle Two, ready.”

\--

Lance meets them in the shuttle bay, dressed in his day clothes, but Shiro can see the line of his bayard in his pocket. His arms are crossed, but not in a manner Shiro typically associates with anger from him. He looks concerned and unsure, but not angry.

It’s a far cry from yesterday.

“You're okay?” He looks Shiro in the eye, doesn’t shy away, and Shiro almost can’t believe it. Hesitantly, he nods. The heavy sigh if relief isn't one he expects.

“Good,” Lance breathes and his arms drop to his sides as he relaxes. “Everyone's in the lounge,” he says as he starts for the elevator. “Pidge says you have something for Shiro?”

It's jarring. To have someone say his name and not refer to him. Especially when he’s not used to it. Shiro’s step falters as Matt shoots him a look. Lance seems to realize a second later and he looks startled as he spins around.

“Not that you’re not Shiro!” he exclaims and waves his hands. “It's just…” His gaze drifts to the side as his face twists into a grimace. Shiro tries to not let it affect him.

“I'm sorry,” Lance shakes his head and leads them into the elevator. “Upstairs. Pidge can explain it better than I can.”

“Everyone's there?” Matt asks as they pile in. Lance gives a single shoulder shrug.

“Keith wasn’t when I left but he might've since. He’s…” Lance’s head nods to the side. “He hasn't really left the training room since we got back.”

Shiro frowns automatically, and he's about to start asking about him before he remembers he can't. His frown deepens. No one made him leave? Take a break? Sleep?

“Jesus,” Lance mutters, probably to himself. His brow raises and he levels Shiro with a flat stare. “Yes, he took a break. You can thank Hunk for that.”

Matt digs an elbow into his side. “There's no point in looking scary, relax.”

Shiro sucks in a breath and the frustration building in his shoulders drops away. He looks at Matt, somewhat startled, before turning to Lance. Both brows are raised and he lets out a low whistle.

“Wow, okay, I see what she means,” he says. The elevator opens behind him and he steps out into the hall. The lounge, Shiro knows, is at the end.

“Pidge?” Lance waves Matt off as he strides down the hall.

“It's really complicated,” he says. “A lot of words I don't understand. But, uh… Things might not be that bad? It's been six-seven months, surely something would've happened.”

“Something did happen.” Matt's tone is flat and Shiro clenches his fists. He feels the edge of the cuff press into his side.

“Not- I mean- Yes, but- Before now? The only thing that changed was that you guys met.”

“That's a word for it,” Matt mutters.

Lance huffs and stops in front of the door.  “Okay, yes. Not the best way to put it but you get what I mean. Shiro hasn't told us much but I can guess that you guys didn't get off to a good start.”

_Hand tight on his throat and eyes full of fury and fear._

_How does it feel?_

Shiro grits his teeth and ignores the look Matt gives him out of the corner of his eye. Lance looks sad and Shiro can the see the bob of this throat as he swallows.

“No,” Matt says for him. Lance sighs.

“Right.” He glances at the door then back at Matt. “Wait out here, I’ll give the cuff to Shiro.” He holds out his hand Matt hooks it over his fingers.

“It goes around the top of his arm,” Matt tells him. “About here.” He hooks his fingers under the edge of the cuff Shiro’s wearing, showing Lance the location through the fabric. Lance nods and disappears inside the room.

The brief glance Shiro gets inside tells him exactly where his… Counterpart is. It doesn’t tell him what he’s feeling though. He doesn't know what to make of the face he saw in those scant few seconds. Blank faced, but not relaxed.

“So far so good,” Matt murmurs. Shiro snorts then forces himself to relax. He can feel a headache beginning to build along the back of his head. Calm. He needs to be calm.

They wait in the hall in silence with Shiro regulating his breaths and Matt a steady presence at his side. When Lance opens the door again, the room behind him is quiet.

Shiro immediately catches the other’s eye and he freezes in the doorway back pulled taut. It’s Matt’s hand on his shoulder that makes him step into the room.

“By the Ancients,” Coran murmurs as Allura gasps.

“Okay, that’s creepy,” Hunk blurts out, and Shiro takes a deep breath. Matt’s hand doesn’t leave his shoulder.

“Hunk!” Lance hisses and Hunk raises his hands as he presses his lips together. Shiro takes another deep breath. There are worse reactions but… For the time being, this isn’t his team.

It’s surprising how much that hurts.

Shiro looks around the room, takes in everyone who’s there. And who’s not. Lance and Hunk are on one side of the circle of couches, both of them out of their armor. Pidge is across from them, still in hers and Shiro suspects she spent most of the night in her lab.

Allura and Coran stand in the gap, both looking at him with wide eyes. Allura’s mouth is covered by her hand. Keith is missing. He hides the shaking quality of his breath by breathing through his nose. What he wouldn’t give to be able to at least say ‘Hi’.

He looks towards the clone, who’s standing to Pidge’s right at the end of the couch, just in time for him to look away and Shiro can’t ignore the flash this time. He knows he’s not seeing things. But everyone’s attention is being drawn towards Pidge, even Matt’s, so Shiro has to metaphorically bite his tongue and think about what it means.

The answer seems obvious. The copy wearing the Paladin armor is the clone. But he’s also the one with the voice. He’s the one that came back _first_. And Shiro’s the one that was left broken and forgotten with only one means of defence.

What’s to say he’s not hallucinating? It’s happened before.

“So, good news first,” Pidge starts, laptop open on her knees, but she’s barely paying attention to the screen. “Both Shiro’s are Shiro. My systems can’t tell the difference. Bad news? _My systems can’t tell the difference_. As far as it’s concerned, I just scanned the same person twice last night.”

Shiro swallows the sour taste in the back of his mouth. Of course.

“The only way we’d be able to tell the difference is through memory recall. Who remembers what? Who forgets the most? That sort of thing. Easy to figure out, presumably just by talking.”

Shiro frowns.

“That shouldn’t be a problem.”

Their eyes meet across the circle. Shiro’s jaw is aching from how hard his teeth are clenched. Easy for the one with the voice. He breathes in slowly, and shakes his head. The copy blinks. His lips part in surprise.

“No?”

Pidge frowns and there’s a rush of tapping keys as she begins to search through her research. “That doesn’t make sense,” she says.

He knows.  

“I asked Matt for your most recent medical scans and they said you were fine. You should be able to talk.” _He knows._ Shiro shakes his head.

“It’s selective mutism at it’s finest,” Matt pipes up.

 _What?_ Shiro looks at him wide eyed but Matt barely glances back before he looks over the rest of the room again.

“When he’s awake, he doesn’t make a sound. Even when he’s in pain. But when he’s sleeping?” His frown deepens for a fraction of a moment, and Shiro is reeling. He remembers waking up to a smiling Matt looking far more tired than he should be. He remembers it happening on more than one occasion. He knows he has night terrors. Knows the effect they can have. But despite all that…

“It’s gotten better,” Shiro dimly hears Matt say, “but his dreams, when he has them, aren’t pretty.”

Shiro doesn’t remember them.

“Trauma, then?” Coran suggests and Shiro slowly looks at him.

“Possibly,” Matt says.

One more box to add to the list.

“Alright,” Pidge nods, “now is it from being cloned or be _coming_ the clone?” And there’s the number one question. Shiro crosses his arms and meets the eyes of his copy. His heart pounds in his chest. The cuff digs into his side. There’s one thing he knows for certain.

He’s not the one that woke up in a tank.

The copy’s eyes narrow and his jaw tightens as he subtly straightens his back. Shiro’s brow furrows and he takes in a measured breath. The copy shifts his weight, angles his head just barely towards the floor.

He’s in pain.

Shiro frowns. He nudges Matt’s shoulder and keeps his gaze forward when he looks up. Matt gives a little disapproving hum right when Pidge lets out a loud, aggravated sigh.

“Alright, let’s look back to yesterday,” she suggests. “We were fine, at first. Ready to have a good talk. But something set you off.” She gives Shiro a pointed look, and Shiro drops his arms. He finds his tablet through the right pocket and taps his fingers on the back of it.

‘Yellow.’

“What?”

“Wait, what was that?”

“Was that Morse Code?”

“Yes, shut up!”

Lance’s hand falls from his chin as he looks around the room, and Allura’s frowning as she turns to Coran. Hunk sits up straighter in his seat and it’s Pidge’s shout that get everyone to settle. She’s sitting forward, laptop precariously balanced as he watches Shiro.

“Yellow,” she repeats. Shiro nods once.

‘Your eyes flashed yellow when you looked away.’ There’s no mistaking who he’s talking about. The copy takes a deep breath.

“They want us to fight,” he says. He sounds strained. On edge. “Kill the leader, eliminate the head. Self destruct.” He turns slightly and Shiro realises that, until then, he hasn’t been able to see the arm properly.

He isn’t wearing the cuff.

Shiro tenses and waits. He doesn’t want to fight but he will if he has to. He just doesn’t know the trigger.

“That sounds about right for the Galra,” Hunk says. “Remember what I said, way back when? About the evil mind control thing and-”

Shiro’s ears ring and he’s moving before he realizes it. He shoves Matt away and his arms come up to block the blow, leaving glowing violet inches from his face.

“ _I’m getting rid you once and for all._ ”


	6. Last To Fall

“Shiro!”

“I knew it! I knew it!” Hunk is shouting as Shiro twists and shoves the copy to the side. “Evil Galra mind control. I called it!”

Everybody’s up and spreading out. Shiro ducks, dodges and parries the copy’s attacks but he can’t do much else. His arm is deactivated and he can’t get into his armor to take the cuff off. He probably doesn’t want to. It’s likely the only reason why he’s not also in a frenzied rage. 

“Shiro!” Matt calls again, and Shiro can only spare him a glance before he has to duck. He leads the copy back, away from everyone else, and grits his teeth against the continued onslaught. If there’s a plus to this, it’s that the focus is entirely on him. The copy fights with a single minded drive and Shiro can almost imagine what he might be hearing. 

End him. Eliminate the imposter. Do everything it takes. Kill him. 

Shiro hisses out a breath and makes sure that doesn’t happen. 

They’re evenly matched. Everytime he thinks he’s got the leg up, the copy will come around from a different angle, twist out of his hold, stretch to his limits. He’s wild, with no regard for himself or the team. It’s  _ terrifying _ . 

Shiro has never been more thankful and annoyed for the Altean propensity for minimalism. There’s nothing loose to toss, nothing to distract. Just them, and the people around them. Okay.

Shiro glances around the room, locates his team, and the second of inattention costs him. He chokes as he’s caught around the throat, but it’s not a hold. It’s there for a second, hard and heavy, but it still leaves him reeling. 

He’s breathless as he’s knocked back and he tumbles into the pit in the centre. By some miracle, he doesn’t hit his head on the way down. Matt shouts with everyone else, but he can barely hear it over the ringing in his ears. 

The copy is on top of him. His right arm is pinned painfully beneath him. A fist hits the floor next to his head and Shiro gasps at the snarling face above him. He can feels the hatred pouring off in waves, every harsh breath like a slap to the face. 

This is the perfect opportunity. But the copy’s not taking it. Shiro’s heart skips a beat as he realizes what happening.

He’s fighting it. 

The angle is bad, but a metal arm is still metal. Shiro twists, wrenches his arm free, and doesn’t hold back. There’s a sharp yelp and the copy falls dizzy to the side. It give Shiro enough time to scramble free. Matt’s hand latches on the back of his armor and hoists him up, helps him over the edge of the couch. He doesn’t look away as Allura leaps in and pins the copy in a hold. 

“Coran!” Allura shouts and the man hops over with a nimble grace Shiro doesn’t expect. He’s got the cuff in his hand and the copy’s only just begun to struggle when he gets it clipped. The violet light dies and the copy sags against the floor. Shiro staggers as the ringing abruptly dims. 

“Guys, we’ve got company!” Keith’s voice shouts over the castle comms moments before the alarm sounds and the ship rocks beneath their feet. 

“What!” Pidge shouts as she lurches to her feet.

“Oh, this is bad!” Hunk is muttering in his corner of the room. “This is really, really bad.” 

“I hear you, buddy, but we really gotta go!” Lance tugs on his sleeve and pulls him to his feet.

“Everyone, get to your lions!” Allura commands as she books it for the door Shiro and Matt came through. “I’ll try and see what’s going on! Coran, look after Shiro!”

“Will do, Princess!” Coran shouts to her back and starts to gather the copy from the floor. The others are racing after Allura and Shiro and Matt share a glance before they follow. 

“Keith, where are you?” Pidge has her communicator open, the small screen shaking over her wrist as she runs. 

“Out with Red!” He sounds strained, but Shiro can’t see his face over Pidge’s shoulder. “Thought I’d clear my head a bit before I came in but then-” He grunts with an impact then snarls a curse. “All of these battleships showed up out of nowhere!”

“How many?”

They all run into the bridge and see immediately what Keith is trying to tell them. He streaks by them, alternating between shooting and physical attacks with a squad of Galra fighters hot on his tail. 

“Too many,” he says. 

Shiro stops and glares through the windows with gritted teeth. Resistance ships are beginning to join the fray, small fighters like the Galra and the larger transports coming out in force. Defences on the Crusader are being activated. 

Allura’s bringing up the shields as everyone else runs for their lions. “Where are they coming from?” she shouts right as a battleship appears out of the aether followed by three more. 

“I don’t know, it’s almost like they’re hiding.” Keith cries out and Shiro watches at the Red Lion turns just in time to avoid a headlong collision. “We might need Voltron for this,” he says, voice ragged.

“We’re on our way out,” Lance calls through the comms. “Shiro’s been incapacitated, though.”

Allura shoots him a look over her shoulder, a calculating consideration in her eyes as Keith asks why. “Something in his arm, I’m guessing,” she says. “From the way it was described yesterday, it looks like the same thing happened.” Shiro meets her eyes, knowing the question in the air and damn him if he wants to be able to answer it.

Matt’s tablet chimes and he moves away to receive the call.

“It’s because he didn’t want to put on that stupid cuff,” Pidge gripes. “The other Shiro is fine.” Not that fine. His head still hurts along with a ring in his ears, low but unmistakeable.

More and more ships are appearing, barely held back even with the addition of the other Paladins. Shiro sees them streak by as Allura turns back to the fray.

“Their timing is impeccable,” she says and maneuvers the ship to a better position. “It’s almost like they knew.” Shiro’s willing to bet they did. Matt’s hand wraps around his wrist and Shiro follows the pull.

“Time to go,” he says. “Inah and Gorick are meeting us out there.” Shiro hisses a breath between his teeth and turns properly, heading for the door at Matt’s side. There’s nothing he can do here aside from fret anyway.

“They just keep coming!” Hunk shouts and Shiro’s hands are fists at his side.

“There’s gotta be something we can do!” And there’s Lance, ever optimistic. Shiro walks a little bit faster as Keith lets out a growl of frustration.

“Shiro!” he barks and Shiro stops in his tracks. “Pidge says you’re the same right?” His image comes up as Shiro looks over his shoulder. Keith looks at him in angry determination. It’s the way he always looks when faced with a problem he can’t fix immediately but knows there’s a solution. “You’ve got to try.”

“Will that even work?” Hunk questions. Shiro very much doubts it despite how much he wants it to. Allura’s looking at him again, pleading, and he takes a deep breath. He can’t even feel the Black Lion.

“Do it.” Shiro looks at Matt with wide eyes and Matt nods, a firm set to his jaw. “Go,” he says and Shiro hesitates. He can feel his heart in his throat, a muted fear locking his limbs. He doesn’t want to be rejected. 

Matt reaches up, takes Shiro’s face between his hands and presses their foreheads together. “I’m with you.” Shiro swallows hard and nods. Matt presses a kiss to the top of his head, then pushes him away towards the front of the bridge. 

“Shiro?” Allura’s still watching him, somehow putting a wealth of questions in his name. Are you sure? Can you do it? Will you try?

Shiro nods. At the very least he’ll try. He crosses the room to the Black Paladin’s podium and closes his eyes as it descends. 

“Good luck,” Allura calls before he disappears beneath the floor. He almost wants to laugh. Good luck. Right. Makes it sound like she believes in him about as much as he believes in himself. 

\--

It doesn’t work.

He grips the levers with enough force to shake. Frustrated tears build in his eyes and he bites the inside of his lip to the point of tasting copper. He knew it before he even got in. There wasn’t the familiar tread of warmth, the whisper of a voice in the back of his mind. Just silence.

Damning silence.

He stands slowly, as if drawing it out will change the outcome. He peels his fingers from the grips and stiffly walks out.

It hurts more than he expects. More than he wants to admit, even. 

He makes his way mindlessly to the pod bay, the walls of the castle a blur. It feels colder, somehow. Less welcoming. He tries not to let it get to him. 

Matt is waiting next to their jets, listening to the clamor of the fight through the comms. His mouth is a straight line, and he doesn't comment when Shiro approaches. “Caeros needs help breaking atmosphere,” he says instead. “The Galra have them pinned.”

Because Volton is unavailable, is what he doesn’t say. Shiro nods stiffly. Matt takes his hand before they separate, lacing their fingers together and gripping tight. 

“I’m with you.” He says it quietly, as if anyone can hear him through all the yelling. “You’re my Starshine. My light in the dark. Never forget that.” Shiro nods again and grips back. His next breath comes a little easier. Matt smirks, confidence and danger lurking at the edges. “Time to run circles?”

A grin splits his lips, teeth bared in agreement. Time to run circles.

“We’re on our way out,” Matt announces through the comms, turning on his heel to clamor into his jet. “Coran, how- How’s Shiro looking?”

“Still out I’m afraid,” Coran replies, sounding harried. Shiro climbs into his own jet and starts the launch sequence. “I’m running diagnostics on the arm, I’ll let you know what comes up. You’re going to have to hold out for the time being, unfortunately.”

“Yeah, not sure how much longer we can do that for,” Lance says. There’s a grunt and a curse in typical Lance fashion before he huffs. “It’s getting pretty hairy out here.”

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Keith states.

“Shiro and I are on our way to help Caeros,” Matt says. Shiro accepts the video request that pops up and the profile of his face appears on his left. “Ymir is closest so we’re starting there.”

“I’ll try and back you up,” Pidge offers. “Just give me a few minutes.” Shiro shares a glance with Matt through the feed and nods. 

“Alright, I’ll see you out there.” Matt shifts and Shiro watches through the windows as he makes his way to the bay doors. “Coran, whenever you have a moment.”

“I’ve got you covered,” the man says as the doors slide open.

They break away from the castleship and into the chaos. The Galra don’t notice them at first, two small crafts among thousands of their own. They dodge and spin around them, a distraction that costs some of them their lives.

Shiro spots them first, a fleet of Caeran ships trying to rise before they’re forced to retreat with Galra hot on their tails. Matt sees them too and he growls low in his throat.

“Go!” he shouts, “I’m right behind you!” And Shiro veers off. He drops closer to Caeros, towards retreating fleet and their Galra chasers. He starts shooting as he draws near and he grins when their attention turns. He’s the cat that’s found his prey.

He skims past them and the group of Galra fighters scatter.  He twists one way, and he can see Matt go the other. 

“Flanking!” Matt calls and Shiro adjusts to match. Any Galra ship that crosses his gun barely makes it three shots. 

“Captain, we’re coming for back up!” Gorick announces over the radio and Shiro’s grin widens. 

“Two doboshes,” Inah adds, and Matt cheers. The cheer cuts when Shiro’s ship lurches and Shiro’s thrown against his restraints. The radio turns to static and the windows turn dark. Shiro gasps, heart racing and braces himself against the dash. All of the readings on the left are plummeting.

Not good.

His hands fly across the dashboard, pressing buttons and flipping switches, but nothing happens. He tries to reset the radio but there’s only static. There’s another lurch. Shiro’s stomach rolls. His head is starting to pound. His ears hurt.

Very not good. 

Something on his right lights up, something red and it makes the whole cabin glow. He looks between it and the readings on the left. They’re flickering out of focus and he can’t… He can’t seem to catch his breath. He tries to reset the radio.

Static.

Sweat drips over his brow, down into his eyes. He wants to wipe it away but there’s something… There’s a mask in the way. He can’t get his fingers to the latch. 

This is bad. 

He fumbles with the dash. Hits every button he can reach. Nothing’s working. Nothing’s  _ working.  _

He’s… very tired. That’s… not good.

The right side shouldn’t be red. What does it mean when it’s red? He doesn’t know. He forgets. It’s hot. He tries to take his mask off. It’s too hot, he can’t breathe. He hooks his fingers over the top and gasps when the metal falls away. His stomach rolls and he chokes. 

Now he really can’t breathe. 

He coughs and he heaves. His ears ring and his hands shake. He can’t see.

This is really, really, very not good.

He tries to reset the radio. 

_ Please. _

Shiro comes to all at once. He gasps in the stale air, too hot and too cold, and he barely turns his head in time to throw up again. It’s tastes… off. His ears are ringing, high pitched and near deafening. He can’t control his shaking. Tears burn hot in his eyes.

This is it. 

He’s sideways, almost upside down. His chest hurts.  _ Everything _ hurts. He can’t move. His entire dashboard is dead. The static is silent. It’s dark.

He chokes on a sob, and closes his eyes against the pain. It doesn’t matter anymore, does it? He’s dead. All that time trying to figure shit out and now he’s dying. 

He fumbles with his restraints, tries to loosen the straps. His neck hurts from the angle he’s hanging at. Shiro nudges something in his left side and he  _ writhes _ . His breath locks in his throat and,  _ god,  _ if only he could scream. He’s blinded by it, stars sparking across his vision. His arms jerk and it only sends new waves of pain.

_ Just end him already! _

He sobs and cries. Stopping the tears is useless. There’s no one to see him cry anyway. He lets them fall as he gasps through gritted teeth. It’s taking everything to keep his arms in one place. He clutches the arm rests until his fingers are beyond numb. 

He doesn’t want this.

He glares up -  _ down _ \- at the top of the ship. 

This isn’t  _ fair _ . 

He sucks in a breath and tries not to gag. There’s something new mixed in with the blood, sweat, and sick. Something chemical. Something burning. He shakes his head. He got so  _ far. _ Something in the ship creaks.

Too far to go out like this.

He doesn’t even care anymore. He doesn’t care if he’s real. Doesn’t care if he’s the clone or not. Knowing the Galra, there’s probably more of him out there anyway. He doesn’t  _ care. _

He just wants to  _ live _ .

He calls. Reaches out with his heart for the one thing that let him fly. He calls for the Black Lion with his soul for one last chance to fly again. He’s going to die. Might as well go out with a bang. 

He drops his head against the headrest. He wants to fly with his team again. Feel the bond and the joy after every victory. He wants to hear their voices in his heart one last time.

‘Please,’ he begs. 

_ Let me fly with you again.  _

The ship shifts with the sound of shrieking metal, a sharp turn that leaves him gasping on his back. It relieves the pressure on his side but the pain flares and burns. All Shiro sees are stars. The smell is getting worse and Shiro closes his eyes against it. This is it. This is where he dies. 

Warmth rumbles in the back of his mind and Shiro’s breath freezes in his chest. His eyes open wide as he gapes upwards, locked in place as light appears in cracks. The air hisses around him, a rapid rush of pressure and fresh air. The metal is being crushed and torn, pulled back, until he’s staring up at pale blue sky and the Black Lion overhead. 

His breath is uneven as he sucks in ragged lungfuls of air. He reaches up as the Black Lion leans down again, the chunk of ship tossed aside. He fumbles for the release with his other hand and the straps fall away as she opens her jaw again. 

‘You came.’ 

He feels her again, power pulsing in his veins as she purrs, and he grits his teeth as he pulls himself up. His vision swims, the pain in his side nauseating, but he doesn’t dare look at it. Black is  _ here _ . She came for  _ him.  _ He’s going to fly.

He hears voices before he gets to the cockpit. 

“...ere the Black Lion went?”

“Down! Towards the surface!”

“Why would it go down there?”

“ _ Shiro! _ ” Matt’s voice is torn, a desperate hope leaving the edges ragged. Shiro smiles as he drops in the seat and dormant lights flicker and brighten. 

I’m here.

He takes a deep breath and reaches for the grips, fingers wrapping around the warmth the curls in the back of his mind. The Black Lion rumbles beneath him, a sense of coming home rising in his chest. He swallows through the lump in his throat and lifts his gaze as the Black Lion rises. 

Thank you, he wants to say. For believing. For trusting when he barely trusts himself. For a second, he feels at peace, even with the Galra above and the ever growing burn in his side. He is here, in the Black Lion as the Black Paladin and nothing else matters. His grip tightens and Black crouches. Impatience coils within them.

_ I’m here. _

The Black Lion roars, a voice in place of his own and Shiro thrusts forward. They burst from the ground, a thunderous streak of righteous fury. He  _ is _ the Black Paladin, and he’s here to fight. He will always fight. He’ll never give the Galra the satisfaction of winning. Not when he can help it. 

There’s a rise of shouting around him, a chorus of his name in varying levels of surprise and relief. Shiro grins around the taste of copper in his mouth.

_ I’m here! _

His heart roars with the Black Lion and the Galra never sees them coming.

\--

_ “You are my greatest achievement, yet.” Fingers brush over his brow, cold and deceptively gentle. He blinks slowly at the ceiling, then follows the hand as it leaves. Her face is shrouded by her hood but her hair, stark white, spills thick over her shoulders. He frowns, confused. He knows her. _

_ “Take them to the T-12 quadrant. He’s ready.” _

_ She sweeps from the room, but his gaze is caught on the table across. Someone is strapped to the surface, chest heaving like they’re crying but he can’t hear a sound. Their mouth moves but they don’t speak. Someone else steps in the way, robes obscuring his vision. _

_ He becomes aware of a dull ring in his ears and shakes his head to try and get rid of it. All it does is make him dizzy.  _

_ “End him,” the man in the robes says. “Eliminate him. Make him pay.” Then he’s gone and their eyes meet across the distance.  _

“Oh, now that’s something.”

Shiro gasps as he comes to. His heart is racing, head pounding behind his eyes and every muscle aches. 

_ End him. _

He swallows the bitter taste in the back of his mouth. 

_ No…  _

He squints through the lights of the med bay and finds Coran focused on a device in his hand. Images flash across its tiny screen, too fast for Shiro to see, but Coran’s eyes flick back and forth over it before they dart to him.

“Number One! Good to see you up!” He says with far more cheer than Shiro feels is warranted. He sighs and levers himself upright, accepting the water packet that Coran digs out. He doesn’t open it.

He can’t miss the band around his arm, tight on his bicep and silencing the piercing ring that had taken over his hearing. It’s still there, he thinks, low to the point where he isn’t sure if it’s actually real. Coran doesn’t seem to be bothered and it further cements the thought that it’s all in his head. 

“Good news, the Galra are being pushed back,” Coran tells him. Shiro looks at him with wide eyes. He didn’t even know the Galra were here. “Between the three of us, uh, Caeros, the rebel army, and us, that is, we’re managing to push them away. That clone of yours is really something else, he-”

“He’s not the clone,” Shiro interrupts, throat tight. Coran blinks at him, startled, and Shiro ducks his head. “I’m sorry,” he says. He squeezes the water packet between his hands. His mouth hangs open, but he can’t bring himself to say more. 

He closes it after a moment of hanging silence, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut. There’s a shift as Coran steps closer, a tap as he sets down his device. He stops at the edge of the cot. 

“You’re saying you are the clone, then,” Coran says lowly. Shiro gives him a stilted nod. “What makes you say that?”

“I remembered.” He swallows, tries to clear his throat from the sudden thickness. “I remember a ship. I remember Haggar.” He takes a deep breath. “I remember  _ him _ .” He opens his eyes but he doesn’t look up. He stares towards the floor, not even seeing it. 

“‘End him,’ they said.” Shiro shakes his head, intimately aware of the band around his arm. The only thing between him and insanity. “I don’t  _ want _ to.”

“Then you won’t.” Shiro looks up, and Coran is looking at him like he firmly believes it. He smiles when their eyes meet and Shiro’s heart clenches. “You didn’t,” he says. “There was a moment when we couldn’t reach you. You had the perfect opportunity. You didn’t.”

Shiro sucks in a breath, chest tight and throat tighter. The packet of water creaks in his hand and he lets go before it bursts. Coran bends down to pick it up and sets it next to him on the cot.

“So, you’re the clone, then,” he says conversationally. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I-,” Shiro frowns. He doesn’t want to leave, but he knows he probably should. Who knows what else the Galra have hidden in him. Better to remove the variable before it becomes a problem. The original can come back, return to his place as the Black Paladin. Everyone will be happy.

“I’ll leave.” He cringes as his voice cracks. “He can come back and I’ll go.”

“And that’s what you want?” Coran looks at him imploringly, and Shiro presses his lips together. No. But it’s what he needs to do. Coran sighs.

“We’re not going to toss you out,” he says softly. “And I highly doubt the team will allow you to leave with, ‘It’s for the greater good,’ as your reasoning.” He gestures to the water. “Have a drink and come with me. It looks like they’re almost done out there.” 

Shiro finally opens the packet and slowly sips it as Coran takes up his device. He catches sight of the screen when Coran turns and almost chokes. It’s a live feed of the fight, broadcast from the bridge. Coran turns back at the sound.

“Voltron,” Shiro croaks, eyes stuck and Coran looks down.

“Oh, yes!” he grins and presents it to Shiro like it’s a product to be sold. He doesn’t dare try and take it. “I was going to say, he’s really quite impressive for a clone if he’s able to pilot the Black Lion.” Coran draws it back, and Shiro strangles a groan in the back of his throat. “Which makes it all the more impressive if you’re the clone instead. You’ve been piloting for months!”

“But I-”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Coran frowns at him, almost like he’s personally offend. Shiro swallows and nods to which Coran nods back. “Now, let’s go to the bridge,” he says as he heads for the door. “We’ll come to a decision when everyone returns.”

Shiro frowns at his back, then drops he gaze to the floor. No matter what anyone says, he can’t stay. He can’t be the one to put everyone in danger. 

“Shiro, you’re okay!” Allura bursts when they get to the bridge. She looks visibly relieved, shoulders sagging and she leaves her station to throw her arms around Shiro in a hug. He doesn’t have much of a choice but to accept. Not that he wouldn’t, but there’s many definitions to ‘okay’ and he’s definitely not much. She seems to sense that as his arms come around her back and she pulls away enough to see his face. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, concern furrowing her brow. “What happened?” Shiro shakes his head.

“Later,” he says. “When we’re all here.” He takes a deep breath and looks up to the view of Voltron in the light of Caeros’ sun. The Galra are gone.

“Did I just hear Shiro?” Hunk’s voice echoes through the bridge. The rest of them pipe up, curious and excited and Shiro laughs.

“Yes, I’m fine. The ringing is gone.” He realizes it as he says it. The low hum has disappeared, and his headache is fading. He almost goes for the band around his arm before he stops himself. Best not to risk it. 

“Good, ‘cause this one’s not,” Keith says as Voltron splits apart. Everyone flies back to the castle but the Black Lion is slow to turn. It’s movements look stiff, barely in control. “Someone get a pod ready, he needs it.”

“Open the hanger, while you’re at it,” Matt chimes in. He sounds wrecked, voice hoarse and like he’s barely holding himself together. “I’m coming in.”

“On it!” Coran volunteers as he darts across the room. “Shiro do you mind?” Shiro doesn’t know if he minds or not, but he nods and heads down to the cryopods anyway. Even if his memory turns out to be skewed and the other Shiro is the clone, he still proved himself. He still deserves to live. 

He arrives practically hanging off Keith’s shoulder, bent nearly double with his hand pressed tight against his side. He’s pale, practically grey, and his eyes are fever bright when he looks up. Sweat covers his brow and blood lines his lip from where it’s bit through. He meets Shiro’s eyes, and smiles. 

Of course he does. Shiro wants to cry.

That seems to take the last of his strength. Shiro’s heart leaps to his throat as his expression falls and he sags heavy towards the floor. Lance comes up behind them with a yelp, catches him on the other side so he doesn’t hurt himself anymore than he already is. Together, they get him changed and herded into the cryopod with barely a word between them. 

Keith’s expression is stormy, eyes flicking between them the whole time, and Lance only says enough to keep them on track. He doesn’t take his eyes off the other when they step away though, lips a thin grim line. His fists clench at his sides. 

“You felt it, too, didn’t you, Keith,” Lance says, a tremor in his voice. Shiro almost thinks it’s anger. Keith nods and they both look at Shiro. His breath locks, hitches in his chest. There’s no way they miss it. 

They’re scared. The edges of Lance’s eyes are wide, Keith’s brows crease high. They’re scared and Shiro is too. All because he was arrogant and trusted too much in his own person. 

Matt storms in then, Pidge and Hunk trailing after, and he immediately lays eyes on Shiro. Then they skip down to his arm, to the band still around the top, and his lips pull into an automatic sneer. It’s startling, the level of animosity he’s projecting. It’s something he never thought he’d see from carefree Matt Holt. 

“Whoa, whoa,” Lance’s hands come up as Matt crosses the room in long strides. He backs away quickly and Shiro only manages a couple steps before Matt catches him. He sees the fist, knows where it’s going. He doesn’t try to dodge.

“Hey!” Keith barks as pain lights along his temple. He staggers to the side, stars dancing in the corners of his eyes. Shiro lets himself be pulled back. As deserved as one hit is, he doesn’t want more. Not when there’s a new ring in his ears.

“Thanks for keeping it on,” Matt growls and Shiro flinches. He blinks through the stars to see Keith now standing between them. “Some real good you did there.”

“I’m sorry,” he says on reflex. He’s probably going to be saying it a lot. Might as well get used to it. “I didn’t- This wasn’t my intention.” Matt’s snarl gains more teeth.

“You’re  _ intention? _ ” Matt questions. “You wanted him  _ dead! _ ”

“I know.” He’s just digging himself deeper.

“The first thing he  _ remembers _ , is you trying to kill him!”

Oh, god. “I’m sorry.”

“And all you can say is  _ ‘sorry’? _ ” His arm comes up again but Hunk’s hand wraps around his wrist in the air.

“Matt!” Pidge snaps as she slides in front of him and Matt jerks away. He paces to the other side of the room, cloak an angry cloud around him.

Shiro can’t stay.

There’s lead in his chest, heavy with the knowledge of what he’s done, and what he tried to do. And, aside from Coran, nobody knows the truth yet. His gaze is drawn to the man in the pod, wan and weak and barely holding on. He did nothing wrong.

He grits his teeth.

Shiro… did nothing wrong. 

He turns on his heel and tries not to look like he’s fleeing. The others call at his back, call for Shiro and his nails bite into his palm. It’s all a lie. A ruse. A ploy by the Galra that nearly succeeded. He’s not Shiro.

He never was.

\--

The air hisses around him, uncomfortably chilly, and Shiro pries his eyes open as he stumbles forward. A cryopod. Which means he’s on the castleship. Which means…

Matt fills his vision, looking pretty worse for wear, but his hands catch him on his arms. Shiro finds his balance, brings his own hands up, and Matt sighs as his arms wraps around Shiro’s waist. His nose buries into the chilled skin of his neck and Shiro folds into the embrace. 

‘I’m okay,’ he mouths into Matt’s hair, ‘I’m fine. I’m here.’

There’s a rasp of a whisper, barely a hint of sound, but he hears it. Feels it. His eyes slowly widen as he stares into the middle distance. Matt holds him tighter. 

“I heard you,” he says. He sounds wrecked, like he’s been crying for hours. “In Black. I thought you were dead; I watched your ship fall. But then the Black Lion came and I heard you shouting as you rose from the surface. Like a phoenix from its ashes.” He can feel Matt’s smile against his skin as he laughs. It sounds a little bit broken. 

“Every time I think you’re dead, that the Galra finally got the better of you, you come out with the impossible.”

Shiro snorts. It’s an unfortunate track record. He scans the room for anyone else, but it’s empty. The lights are dimmed, clearly in the middle of their sleep cycle, and Shiro relaxes. Matt takes a deep breath, pulls himself together, and takes a step away. His hands fall to his sides, almost hesitatingly. Shiro take one in his left and twines their fingers together as Matt smiles ruefully. 

“What’s the plan, Starshine?” he asks. “We can stay or we can go. Up to you.”

Staying means seeing the clone again. It means waking up in the morning, not knowing if he’ll need to fight for his life. He’d really rather not, for once. For now he’ll go back. He’ll go back to the safety of the Crusader, of Matt’s arms and his room and his bed. 

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He concentrates on putting sound behind his words.

“Let’s go.”


End file.
